


Just Friends

by CrunchySalad



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-13
Updated: 2010-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchySalad/pseuds/CrunchySalad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chitose gets over his unrequited first love, mainly by just being his promiscuous self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tachibana was avoiding his phone calls.

"He's so cold," Chitose had joked to some of their friends on the team, "he blinds me and can't even call afterwards."

No one had laughed at that.

And here he was, sitting in an uncomfortable pleather chair in a dull looking little room, waiting as some doctor kept shining lights into his eyeball.

"We'll have to do some more tests," said the doctor.

"It's not that one where they blow air into your eye, is it?" Chitose asked, face puckering in a sour expression.

"Among others," the doctor said, looking utterly sadistic with his lips twisted up like that.

Miyuki was sitting in a chair in the corner, legs swinging as they dangled in the chair. "Aniki. Did you know that if your eye doesn't get better you'll be legally handicapped? You can get the parking sticker and everything."

"Great," Chitose muttered, as the doctor pulled out some foreboding looking contraption that Chitose was sure he was not going to enjoy.

Later on he stood in front of the mirror in his room, just staring. He looked the same. Thick, nappy black hair that fell wildly around his face. Smooth, pale skin, no matter how much time he spent outside. And two round brown eyes, each looking exactly like the other, each looking the same as it had before.

During the next doctor's appointment, Chitose listened as the doctor discussed his situation with his mother. She looked nonchalant as she snapped her gun, but Chitose could see her fingers wrapped too tightly around her purse. She looked odd, Chitose knew, not like the other mothers. . . she looked like a Miyuki's older sister, not her mom. Her skin was a dark tan, her hair black, straight, and long down her back. She had a penchant for brightly colored make-up and short skirts, something that made her look about ten years her junior. When she had first come too see him in the hospital, after his eye was injured, the first thing she had done was smack him on the back of his head, sending the orange juice he had been drinking all over the sheets.

"I thought," she had said, scowling, "you were supposed to be good at tennis."

But now, her stern features were more relaxed, and she was listening intently to the doctor.

"He's lost about eighty percent of his vision in his left eye," the doctor said. "If something isn't done he could go completely blind in that one eye."

"What do you suggest?" his mother asked.

"There's a doctor in Osaka who specializes in this kind of surgery, he may be able to fix the problem. Or, at the very least, make sure that it doesn't get worse. It may take some time, though."

Chitose left the room, letting his mother work out the details. He found Miyuki in the waiting room, and spent the rest of the appointment trying on glasses and making her laugh.

"Don't these make me look smart?" he asked, putting on some huge, round pair that made his eyes shrink to little black holes in the middle.

Miyuki cracked up, hands holding in her stomach. "Nothing could make you look smart, baka aniki."

Chitose smiled, happy to have a little sister who was so easy to amuse. He didn't pick out a pair though; it wouldn't have helped, not with his condition.

The next morning he took a detour on the way to school, walking past Tachibana's house. He stood outside, but either Tachibana had already left or he hadn't left yet, and for some reason Chitose couldn't bring himself to go knock on the door.

A week later he was settled in his bean bag reading volume three of Habu no Zunou when some one rang his doorbell. Miyuki was out, shopping with their mother, and his father was at his workshop. Chitose threw on a pair of shorts and one of his typical loose, flowing shirts as he ran downstairs. He threw open the door to find the last person he expected to be there.

"Your hair!" The first thing he thought to say, and it sounded lame as soon as he opened his mouth. But it had surprised him, to see Tachibana's long blond hair cut so short to his head.

"I cut it off," Tachibana said, hand reaching upwards to brush through his now close cropped hair. "Can I talk to you?"

"Dude," Chitose said, already closing the door behind Tachibana as the other boy walked into the house, "you're the one that's been avoiding me. You haven't returned any of my calls."

"You haven't come to tennis club."

Chitose shrugged. "I turned in my resignation last week."

"You what?" That seemed to catch Tachibana by surprise, shock crossing briefly over his usually unreadable expressions.

Chitose sighed. "Yeah, well, it's kind of pointless right now, I wouldn't do the team any good. The season's over anyway."

"There's next year."

"Well, we'll see what happens next year then." Silence stretched awkwardly between them, Tachibana standing rigidly in his foyer while Chitose leaned against a wall. "Do you want to come upstairs and hang out?"

It's what he had missed, these last few weeks of not seeing Tachibana. The presence of the other boy, the heat that seemed to radiate from him. His eyes, laughing, lips pulled up in a slow smile whenever Chitose said something stupid. All the times they touched, brief and accidental as they were. All those times they almost touched, the hope of something more substantial burning in the pit of Chitose's stomach.

But Tachibana was shaking his head no. "I just came to tell you. . . I came to apologize. I never meant for this to happen."

"I know," Chitose replied, before Tachibana had even finished the sentence.

"I don't know what I would do if I couldn't play tennis again."

But I only ever played because of you, Chitose thought, unable to form the words, because Tachibana wouldn't understand anyway.

"Chitose. . . I'll see you in school."

Chitose nodded, and Tachibana let himself out.

But they didn't see each other in school. They weren't in the same class, and Chitose stopped calling when he realized that he was just being ignored again. It was maybe a week after Tachibana came to visit him that he stumbled out of his class room, eyes lighting up to see those short, light brown pigtails and that too (in Tachibana's opinion) short skirt.

"An-chan!" he called, wondering why And had made the detour to his wing of the school. But the girl only smiled and jogged up to him.

"Chitose-san!" An grinned up at him as she got closer. "Will you walk me home?"

"Of course," Chitose replied, slowing his pace down so that they could fall into step together. "I'd never turn down the chance to walk a pretty girl home."

They walked a little bit in comfortable silence, enjoying the sound of falling leaves and the crispness in the air. It was just starting to get cooler, and Chitose realized that soon he would have to trade his geta sandals in for some proper shoes.

"Chitose-san," An finally said, her voice suddenly serious, "how's your eye?"

"It's fine," and he wondered if she knew he was lying. "Kippei's not beating himself up too bad over it, is he?"

The ensuing silence as An decided what to say let Chitose know that, yes, Tachibana was most certainly taking Chitose's injury out on himself.

"You know how oni-chan is," An finally said.

Chitose nodded, and they walked on. It didn't take long at all before they were in front of the Tachibana household, and An was turning back to face him, a smile on her lips but her eyes suspiciously wet.

"It was nice to walk home with you again, Chitose. I'm going to miss it when we move to Tokyo."

"Tokyo?" Chitose felt his heart drop deep into his stomach. "Kippei never said anything-"

But An was already nodding, like she guessed that was what Tachibana would have decided to do. "He's not very good at goodbyes."

Chitose didn't know what to say, and only managed a weak. . . "but, mid-semester?"

"Father was offered a transfer there, so we really can't wait."

Chitose all of the sudden found thin arms wrapped around his waist, An's head buried in his chest. He brought a hand up to rest on her head, the other on her back, and then she was running inside.

"Say goodbye to Miyuki for me!" she called, and Chitose thought, Kippei wasn't the only Tachibana who had problems saying goodbye.

He turned to walk towards his own house, hurt welling within him with each step. Once he got back to his house he could hear his mother and father talking in the kitchen, about the costs and logistics about obtaining possible long-term care in Osaka. Chitose stood at the door, listening to them for a little bit. When he interrupted, he wasn't even sure where the words were coming from, why he said them.

"Maybe I can transfer there," he said. Being in Kyuushuu now. . . it's not something he particularly wanted. "That way, I can go see the doctor whenever I need to."

So one week later they were researching schools with dormitories in the area, and one week after that he was on a bullet train with his mother to visit some of them. She was dressed completely inappropriately, as usual, in a long-sleeved dress that was short enough to be a tunic, black boots reaching up to her knees. He placed a comforting hand on her head.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll be okay."

"Idiot son," she said, "Of course you'll be okay."

But she looked worried, and Chitose wondered if she was thinking about him being away or about his eye.

Out of the four schools they visited that day, Shitenhoji was the last. But, somehow, Chitose knew instantly that it was where he wanted to be.

* * *

"Hey, move it!"

Chitose almost lost balance as some kid nearly ran into him, the large box in his arms threatening to tip over.

"Hot mom in the lobby!"

He gritted his teeth. . . every single time. But he made his way to his room, pushing open the door to reveal a small but clean space. Chitose's roommate wasn't there at the moment. His side of the room was neat enough, walls covered with posters of movies and the obligatory half-dressed models. He had a laptop lying unopened on a small wooden desk, and a shelf on the windowsill full of small plants.

"Hey," came a voice from behind him, "are you the new guy?"

Chitose put down his box and turned to see a boy walk in to sit on the bed. He was unwrapping tape from his arms, a racket tucked underneath one of them, and Chitose figured it was just his luck to be paired with someone from the tennis club.

"Hey, man," he said, reaching out his hand. "Chitose Senri."

"Shiraishi Kuranosuke." He took Chitose's hand before brushing back light brown hair that was almost feathered around his face. He was a pretty chill guy, Chitose decided, slouched on his bed like that. It would make him easy to get along with as a roommate.

Chitose felt something smack the back of his head. "Ow. . ."

He turned around to see his mother, dressed as she was in skintight jeans and a low-cut sweater. There was a mob of male students around her, carrying what Chitose recognized to be his boxes and luggage.

"Why was I cursed to have such a lazy son?" his mother asked, her pretty features pulled into a scowl. "Luckily these nice young boys offered to carry your things up for me."

"Anything for you, Chitose-san."

"Anytime!"

"Do you need help with anything else, Chitose-san?"

"Mom, you could have waited for me," Chitose whined.

"Eh. . . I should go find your idiot father. He probably wondered off and got lost again."

"Yeah. . ."

Chitose watched as his mother stomped off, the mob of students following her. He looked over at Shiraishi, who was still gaping at the door.

"Dude," he finally said, "is that really your mom?"

Chitose shrugged. "That's what they tell me."

Shiraishi finished unwrapping the tape from his arms and moved over to his desk, flipping open his laptop. "So where are you from anyway? You look kind of familiar."

"Shishigaku, in Kyuushuu," Chitose replied.

"Shishigaku, Shishigaku. . . " Shiraishi was staring at Chitose's face, trying to place him and failing. "We've never met before?"

"Not that I know of," Chitose said, flopping backwards onto his bed. He relaxed there for awhile, eyes closed, before getting bored and sitting up.

"Hey," he said to Shiraishi. "I'm going for a walk. If my parents come back can you tell them I said goodbye?"

Shiraishi raised an eyebrow at that. "You don't want to wait for them?"

"No. To tell you the truth, they don't believe in goodbyes anyway. They have a very. . . unique philosophy when it comes to parenting." His father, Chitose thought, would no doubt have some flowery speech about spreading his wings and flying, while his mother would scowl at him not to get himself injured again.

"Suit yourself," Shiraishi said, already turning back to his laptop.

Chitose grabbed his scarf and made his way out of the dormitories and the school. Like his father, he enjoyed being outside and exploring the environment. Unlike his father, he wasn't an idiot, and could always find his way back from wherever it is that he walked to. What he liked the most about it was the people watching. It's funny, he always thought, the number of people you walked past on any given day. Each with his or her own story, and you were in it for just those few seconds.

Chitose finally found himself at a park. The sound of children laughing and playing could be heard clearly from the large playground, bringing a smile to Chitose's lips. And then there was the sound of shogi pieces being shuffled by the stone tables on the side of the park, and Chitose made his way over there. He enjoyed watching old men playing shogi in their slow, deliberate way. Old people, Chitose thought, were too cute. . . just like little kids.

But, as Chitose got closer, there was one man there in particular who caught his attention. It was his youth that stood out. . . Chitose didn't think he could be any more than twenty-two. He was wearing rather bizarre clothing, not that Chitose was one to talk, some floppy floral hat with a matching jacket. Shaggy blond strands of hair poked out below the hat. Really cute, Chitose thought, but he always did have a thing for blonds.

"Saito-san," the blond was saying, as Chitose got closer, "you're getting better every day. Maybe next time you'll even be able to beat me."

The old man across from him chuckled. "You say that every time we play, Watanabe-kun."

"Can I play winner?" Chitose asked, now standing right next to the table.

"Yes, of course," Saito said, laughing as he shuffled his way off of the seat. "You two young boys should play each other; us old men probably aren't much fun."

Watanabe regarded him from beneath the rim of his floppy hat, already clearing the board. "A scarf and geta sandals? You're an odd looking one."

Chitose smiled as he took his pieces. "Chitose Senri."

"Watanabe."

"Do you have a first name, Watanabe?"

Watanabe shrugged, lips curving into a smirk. "How about I tell you if you manage to beat me. Are you any good?"

"I'm okay," Chitose replied.

Watanabe was taking out a cigarette, lighting it as he placed it in his mouth. He took a drag, thoughtful as he stared at Chitose. "You look like you're just a kid. How old are you?"

"Nineteen," Chitose lied. "I can't be much younger then you."

"Huh. I'm older than I look."

"So, that makes you. . . twenty-three?"

"Add three years and you've got your number," Watanabe replied, eyes laughing at Chitose's mildly shocked expression.

They started the game. Their hands brushed, several times while moving across the board, obviously deliberate on Chitose's part. But Watanabe never pulled away, eyes glinting with every "accidental" touch. In the end Chitose lost, but he was sure he had Watanabe's interest.

"Do you want to play a second game?" Chitose asked, leaning forward. "Loser treats winner to a round of drinks."

"Hmm." Watanabe leaned back, eyes amused as it ran the length of Chitose's body. His lips pulled up in a small, lopsided smile. "Or we can just cut to the chase, and head over to my apartment right now."

By the time Chitose got over his surprise Watanabe was already walking away, and he almost fell out of his chair as he skipped to catch up with the older man. They walked in mostly silence, exchanging occasional pleasantries. But now that Chitose knew what was going to happen he couldn't stop thinking about it. It had been a long time, almost a month, and he was at that age where all he wanted to do was fuck. He was already half hard just walking behind Watanabe, the smaller man's heat and smell clouding his head.

As soon as they got into the small apartment Chitose grabbed him, pulling him closer and slamming him against the wall at the same time. He leaned down to take the man's lips in his, their teeth almost clashing in the wet, hungry kisses. Hands, pulling on fabric, and their clothing was being thrown haphazardly on the floor. Watanabe looked even younger, Chitose thought, without that stupid hat. And he looked hot as anything, his hair mussed and cheeks flushed pink.

"I want you to suck me off," Chitose said, his voice a harsh whisper in Watanabe's ear. "I want you to suck me off, and after that I want to fuck you."

A shiver ran through Watanabe's body, and he chuckled, or attempted to. "Ah, to be young again."

Watanabe's futon was still rolled out in the middle of the apartment, and Chitose guessed that he hadn't bothered to put it away in the morning. At any rate, that's where Chitose was now being pushed, and they fell onto it in a tangle of limbs. Watanabe started to kiss and suck his way down Chitose's chest and abdomen, a tortious foreplay that he really wasn't in the mood for. He tangled a hand in Watanabe's hair and pushed down, but it was just a hint, and Watanabe didn't seem to be inclined to take it, taking his time as he made his way lower.

Finally, finally, he was there, and Chitose propped himself up to watch. His cock was so hard now, long and red, but Watanabe only licked a trail from the base to the tip.

"Just suck it already," Chitose said, almost breathless. He was rewarded with a wicked smile, and that pretty little mouth wrapping around the head of his dick.

Chitose loved getting blow jobs. He loved the feel of it, but more than that, he loved the sight of it, his cock disappearing into some one else's mouth. He watched as Watanabe moved his head down on his cock, could feel the tip of it hit the back of Watanabe's throat. And then the other man was moving up and down on it, sucking it like it was candy. After awhile Chitose could feel himself about to come, and his hand pulled on Watanabe's hair in warning. Watanabe pulled off of his cock, letting it fall from his mouth with a wet plop. He opened his mouth wide in front of the tip of it and jerked it, once, twice, with his hands. Chitose moaned, hips arching forward and cock twitching as he watched spurts of his cum shoot out to land on Watanabe's waiting tongue.

"You taste good," Watanabe said, licking his lips.

"Keep sucking."

Watanabe took Chitose's cock in his mouth again, sucking out any remaining drops of cum. Chitose was still so hard. Once he knew he wasn't going to go limp anytime soon he pushed Watanabe away and rolled them over, immediately going to take Watanabe's cock into his mouth. Watanabe gasped, thrusting upwards as his hands tried to tangle in Chitose's hair. Chitose fumbled for his pants, pulling out the sleek packets he found in the pocket there.

Watanabe's voice was incredulous even in its breathlessness. "You. . . carry. . . lubes and condoms. . . to the park?"

Chitose released the other man's cock for a moment as he tore open a sample size packet of lube. "I like to be prepared."

Soon he had Watanabe's cock back in his mouth and two fingers up Watanabe's ass. He shivered at how good it felt, how tight and hot it was, and it was all he could do to not fuck Watanabe bareback right then. But he waited, fucking him with his fingers first, and then fumbled to put on the condom.

"Roll over," Chitose said, and Watanabe rolled onto his stomach. Chitose grabbed a hold his cock as he leaned forward, positioning himself at Watanabe's entrance. With one thrust he was in, Watanabe moaning and shivering underneath him. He started thrusting, really fucking the other man, his cock sliding in and out of that little hole.

"Oh, man," Chitose moaned, his eyes rolling upwards, "how the fuck are you so tight?"

Watanabe only panted in response, and Chitose reached beneath him to grab his cock, jerking it off as best he could. He lips found Watanabe's neck, and he sucked and kissed the skin there, feeling that tension building up in his groin for the second time that day. He pulled harder on Watanabe's cock, and the man jerked beneath him as he came, cum spilling out onto Chitose's hand. And then Chitose was coming too, still thrusting as he spilled himself into the condom.

They lay still for a few moments, catching their breath, and then Chitose got up and pulled himself out off of the other man. He pulled his condom off as he walked to the bathroom, where he cleaned himself up. When he got back Watanabe had already put on a robe, and was standing by the door.

"It's been a lot of fun," Watanabe said, his lips a lazy smile.

"Yeah," Chitose agreed, walking out the door as Watanabe held it open. "You know, I never did get your first name."

Watanabe shrugged. "I guess you shouldn't have thrown that game, then."

Chitose smiled as the door closed on his face, Watanabe's glinting eyes disappearing behind it.


	2. Kenya, maybe

It was about a month before Shiraishi confronted him about it. Chitose was getting used to the school, easily making friends in his class and adjusting to dorm life. He figured it was only a matter of time, though, before Shiraishi figured it out, and he did it sooner than expected.

Chitose was sitting in his classroom during a break, chatting with some of his friends when Shiraishi came striding in, that cute blond boy he hung out with behind him. The cute blond boy, Chitose had been displeased to note, that seemed to have absolutely no interest in him.

"I knew you looked familiar," Shiraishi said, throwing a newspaper on his desk. It was an old local newspaper covering school sports. There was a picture of Chitose and Tachibana on the open page, still in their Shishigaku uniforms. "I saw you at Nationals. One of the two wings of Kyuushuu."

"Oh, yeah," Chitose said, "completely forgot about that."

"Forgot?" Shiraishi sputtered.

"Shiraishi, he's teasing," said the blond, brushing long wispy bangs back out of his way. Chitose tried to remember the time they had met, and his mind supplied him with a name. Oshitari. Oshitari Kenya.

"Why don't you join the tennis team?" Shiraishi asked.

Chitose shrugged. "I'm just not interested."

"But there has to be a reason you came here to Shitenhoji. Our tennis club is the best in Kansai. We almost won Nationals last season."

"What can I say?" Chitose asked. "You guys have a great campus."

"Liar," Shiraishi replied.

"Look," Chitose said, "you guys on the school tennis circuit, you're way too serious about tennis."

His mind flashed back to Tachibana, how much tennis had always meant to him, that horrified expression when he realized Chitose couldn't play tennis anymore.

"I would just be fooling around on the court," Chitose said. "You wouldn't want a guy like me on your team."

Shiraishi narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Fine. But don't think I'll be dropping this."

Shiraishi made his way out of the classroom, and Chitose turned to look at Kenya, who had seemed pretty indifferent to things throughout the whole conversation. Kenya, for his part, only shrugged.

"Sorry. He's a pretty stubborn guy."

"Do you want to go get a soda?" Chitose asked.

The two walked down the hallway together, towards the vending machine.

"Man," Kenya started, his arms lithe and slender as he stretched them above his head, "I totally get what you're saying about people taking tennis too seriously. You'd think, the way every one at Nationals acts, it's a matter of life or death. Whatever happened to just having fun?"

"Yeah, right?"

"Like Shiraishi, he's obsessed with winning Nationals. He already has this hardcore training program set up for when he's captain next year. And I mean, winning's cool, but who cares in the end?"

"Yeah. . . why are you still into it, anyway?"

Kenya shrugged. "Habit, I guess. I used to play in kids' doubles tournaments with my cousin."

Coca-cola for Chitose, Pocari Sweat for Kenya, and then they were walking back to their classrooms. Kenya chatted amiably enough, but Chitose frowned when he realized his first instinct had been right. The boy had absolutely no interest in Chitose at all. Oh, well, Chitose thought, there were plenty of fish in the sea. Just not, he guessed, the one he really wanted.

When Chitose got back to his dorms that night, Shiraishi was absorbed in his textbooks, waves of anger radiating from him like a fire. Wary, Chitose kept an eye on the other boy as he climbed into bed, pulling out a manga to read.

"Don't you have any homework to do?" Shiraishi asked, voice low and dull, not even looking up from his textbooks.

Chitose blinked, wondering if Shiraishi had eyes in the back of his head. "I'll do it tomorrow morning."

Silence, Shiraishi's pencil screeching strangely on paper, and then Shiraishi's voice again. "I've been reading up on you, you know."

"Umm. . . have you?"

"I read. . . that you can obtain Muga no Kyouchi."

"Is that so."

"And yet, you still won't play tennis for us."

"Okay, yeah, I've gotta go." Chitose jumped up from his bed, leaving before Shiraishi's anger became so palpable as to vaporize him in its heat.

He came back the next morning. Shiraishi was getting ready for class, and he seemed a lot more relaxed.

"Good morning," Chitose tested, voice upbeat and cheerful.

"Good morning," Shiraishi replied, seemingly back to normal, and Chitose breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey, Chitose, do you think you can help me carry these to school?"

Shiraishi nodded at two large boxes on the floor of the dorm, and Chitose shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

They each carried a box down through the dormitories and onto the school grounds, Chitose following Shiraishi. He soon became aware of what the other boy was planning, though, and wasn't at all surprised when they stopped on the tennis courts.

"Well, here we are," Shiraishi said, beaming at Chitose.

Chitose raised an eyebrow. "Really? Did you really think I'd cave and want to play as soon as I saw a tennis court?"

For his part, Shiraishi at least managed to look sheepish about it. "When you put it that way. . ."

"Shiraishi . You're late for practice."

"Eh?" Shiraishi turned his head towards the voice. "Sorry, coach, I was just carrying the new jackets over."

Chitose turned too, something familiar tugging on his senses. And then he saw him. Floppy floral hat, shaggy blonde hair, and surprised blue eyes. It was, Chitose thought, an emotion that was most likely mirrored in his own expression.

"Coach," Shiraishi said to Watanabe. "This is Chitose Senri. He's a new transfer student that I'm hoping to recruit to the tennis club."

"Okay." Watanabe was quickly schooling his expression into a more expected countenance. "Well, why don't you take over practice? I can explain to Chitose how the club works."

"Sure, coach." Shiraishi started jogging to the courts, sending two thumbs up to Chitose.

Chitose sent a very false, very tense smile back before he followed Watanabe into school and into, presumably, Watanabe's classroom. As soon as the door was shut Watanabe turned on him.

"You told me that you were nineteen."

Chitose shrugged as he plopped himself down into a chair. "You wouldn't have slept with me if you had known how old I really was."

"Of course I wouldn't have!" Watanabe was sliding down the wall, head cradled in his hands, looking very unlike his twenty-six years of age. Chitose couldn't tell if he was angry or nervous but at any rate it was a sharp contrast to the confident, collected man Chitose had hit on in the park. "How old are you really? No, don't answer, I don't want to know."

"I'm a second year," Chitose answered, figuring that would be enough.

"This is so fucked up. I can't believe you lied. I can't believe I slept with a student."

"Look," Chitose said, "no one's going to find out about it. And it's not going to happen again. . . maybe."

Watanabe stood up, glaring at Chitose. He walked to his desk and slouched down in his chair there, calm again. "It's definitely not happening again. And no one finds out about this."

Chitose didn't say anything, focused on the first sentence in Watanabe's declaration. If they had already done it once, he pondered, what was the harm of doing it again?

"Chitose," Watanabe said, after he realized that Chitose's mind had wandered off. "What are you thinking right now?"

"I'm thinking about what it would be like to fuck you against your desk," Chitose answered, truthfully.

To his credit, there wasn't a hint of a blush on Watanabe's face. He only smiled and leaned forward. "Get out of my classroom."

Shiraishi caught up to Chitose later during lunch, expression hopeful, and Chitose wondered how naive the other boy could be.

"So what are you thinking?" Shiraishi asked, taking a seat next to him.

"I'm thinking I'm still not interested in playing tennis," Chitose replied. "And for the sake of our future as roommates, I'm thinking you should drop it."

Kenya was there now, dropping into a seat next to Shiraishi. "You really should just stop, Shiraishi. It's getting a little sad."

Shiraishi frowned at Chitose. "You are such a waste of a tennis player."

"Don't want to hear it," Chitose replied.

Miraculously, Shiraishi did give up on trying to get Chitose to come join the tennis club, for which Chitose was eternally grateful. He figured the whole matter was done and over with, until he left his dorm room early one morning about a week later.

He was still half asleep, and for a moment he didn't recognize her. But there was something familiar in the way she was standing, leaning casually against the staircase barrister. That light brown bob, swept by the wind across her face. . . Chitose's eyes widened and he jogged up to her, narrowly missing a few students on the way.

"An! What are you doing here?"

An smiled sadly at him and waved. "Hey, Chitose. Do you have time to talk?"

Chitose looked over at the school building, but then thought, fuck it. "Sure. I'll treat you to breakfast."

They talked about little things as they walked to town, nothing too important. How An was liking Tokyo. How the Fudomine girls' tennis club was doing. How Miyuki was getting along with her classmates. It wasn't until they were settled in some sweet shop, An having decided she wanted cake for breakfast, before she started talking about why she was there.

"We're on a field trip right now in Osaka," she said, "so I snuck off and bought a train ticket over. They're probably not even awake yet."

"I miss you, too, kid, but you could have just called."

"Chitose, aniki stopped playing tennis." It was a sudden statement, and it hit Chitose like a ball out of left field.

That guy. He always was too serious for his own good, Chitose thought. Of the two of them, Tachibana lived and breathed tennis. Chitose had just been along for the ride.

"But he loves it so much," An was saying, voice cracking, and Chitose wanted to tell her it wasn't the end of the world. It was just a game. "It makes me so sad to think that he can't play tennis anymore."

"Yeah. . ." Chitose didn't really know what to say to that. "Did he tell you why he stopped?"

An didn't say anything, and Chitose figured that he knew. Guilt tugged at him even though he told himself it shouldn't. . . that guy had made his own decisions. Chitose had never asked him to quit tennis for his sake. What was he thinking?

"If Chitose starts to play again," An said, "maybe aniki will too."

And there it was.

"Yeah. I guess so."

He had had the surgery already, a few weeks ago. His eye wasn't completely healed, but then it never would be. It was healed enough, his doctor had assured him, for him to play a great game of tennis. He'd just have to learn to work around the blind spots that were left in his vision. But. . . he hadn't wanted to play again. Hadn't seen the point. But now. . .

"Yeah," he said, "I guess it's time for me to start playing again, huh?"

An's eyes lit up so much it was almost as if they were glowing. Chitose figured if they were manga characters she'd be sparkling right about now.

"Really?" she asked. "But what about your eye?"

Chitose scrunched his face up in disbelief. "First you guilt me into playing tennis again, and then you ask about my health? Come on, An, I thought you cared about me!"

"Of course I do!" An said, smiling that megawatt smile of hers. "I wouldn't have asked in the first place if I didn't think you were okay. I asked your mom about it first."

"Of course."

They chatted over their pastries, just like old times, minus one. And then An was running off to catch the next train back, and Chitose was left to settle the bill.

There was a soft chuckling from the counter, and Chitose turned to see a familiar floral hat. Had he been there this whole time?

"It looks like you'll be joining the team after all," came Watanabe's voice.

"Are you stalking me, sensei?" Chitose asked, a grin spreading across his face. "That makes me so happy."

"Idiot," Watanabe said. "This is where I always come for my morning coffee. Also, shouldn't you be in class right now?"

Chitose shrugged. "It's not bad to take some time off every now and then. What about you?"

"I don't have a class until second period."

"Are you going to discipline me for skipping?" Chitose asked, a sly cadence to his voice.

Watanabe scoffed, finally turning to face him. "Hardly. What you do has nothing to do with me."

Watanabe got up to leave, casting one more amused glance Chitose's way. "So who's this girl's brother? The one who has you running back to tennis so quickly. An ex-boyfriend, perhaps?"

"No," Chitose replied, shaking his head. "Just a friend. That's always been the problem, you know."

Chitose smiled, bitter as Watanabe's coffee, and Watanabe nodded knowingly. He let his gaze drift off into the distance as he replied in a sing song voice. "Ah, to be young again. Although, in this respect, I don't really envy you."

Watanabe was smirking as he walked out of the sweet shop, and Chitose could only watch after him.

Later on that afternoon Chitose was reading a manga on his bed when Shiraishi all but bounded into the room.

"I knew you would join sooner or later!"

Chitose frowned. He hadn't even handed in an official application, and already Watanabe was spreading along the news.

"Oshitari, shut the door already," Shiraishi said.

Chitose looked up, but Kenya only shrugged at him.

"Shiraishi decided he wanted to celebrate," Kenya said, and Chitose looked over to see Shiraishi holding a small glass pipe in one hand and a plastic bag full of weed in the other.

The next day, Chitose woke up at about one pm, arms curled around a slender, toned body. He slowly opened his eyes to see that he had buried his nose in bleached blond hair.

"Kenya?" he asked, suddenly frantic. "What the fuck! Are you telling me we had sex and I don't even remember it?"

Such. A. Travesty.

But Kenya, now half awake, was snorting and pushing him away. "In your dreams. We didn't have sex, I just slept over because it was too late for me to go home. And stop trying to cuddle with me."

"Oh," Chitose replied, all of a sudden disappointed. He got out of bed, noticing a little too late that they were both fully clothed.

At any rate, even after Chitose joined the tennis team, he didn't participate in much tennis. It was the end of the school year now, so the players weren't really practicing as much as they were studying for exams. Chitose contemplated using the reading period to go back to Kyuushuu to visit his family, but figured he'd be seeing them during the winter break anyway.

"I can't believe you're not going to the training camp," Shiraishi said, seated across from him in their small corner of the library. Shiraishi's textbooks and notes were littered around him in a mess that Shiraishi assured Chitose was organized. Koishikawa Kenjirou, the boy Shiraishi had introduced as his vice-captain, was sitting next to him with a similar pile of books. Chitose, for his part, had just gotten volume four of Habu no Zunou, and was happily reading it while slouched down in one of those chairs.

"Kenya's not going either," Chitose replied, flipping a page in his book.

"I know." Shiraishi was gritting his teeth now. "I hadn't realized when I was trying to get you to join that I'd just be recruiting another slacker into the club."

"Really?" Chitose asked, incredulous. "Dude, we live together. I thought you knew."

Koishikawa was regarding Chitose with a wary expression. "How good are you, Chitose?"

Chitose shrugged. "Pretty good."

"Don't mind Koishikawa," Shiraishi replied, "he's definitely not one of the better players in the regular line-up we have now, so he's worried about how many tournaments he'll actually get to play in."

"Gee, Shiraishi," Koishikawa replied drily, "thank you so much for that vote of confidence."

"Is Kenya a regular?" Chitose asked.

Shiraishi nodded. "Yeah. And then there's Hitouji and Konjiki, our best doubles combination."

"They're. . . special," Koishikawa said. "You'll enjoy meeting then."

Chitose raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"And then there's Ishida. And. . . Zaizen, Ito, and Hamada," Shiraishi continued. "You'll probably be kicking one of them off their spot, though."

"I hope it's Zaizen," Koishikawa said, "that spiky-haired brat annoys the crap out of me."

"You and every one but Kenya," Shiraishi replied, shrugging. "But he's good."

"Shouldn't you be studying?" Koishikawa asked Chitose, pointing to the book on shogi tactics that the other boy was currently immersed in.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Chitose replied.

Halfway into finals found Chitose standing in the empty hallway outside his dorm, phone in his hand. He had put off on making this call, but . . . now or never, Chitose thought, taking in a deep breath.

He slid down to sit in the hallway, hitting his speed dial. It seemed to take forever to ring, and when it finally did Chitose held his breath. Once. Twice.

"Chitose."

Chitose let out the breath he had been holding. "So you're finally picking up my phone calls now, huh?"

Silence, for a little bit, then. . . "I'm sorry."

Chitose sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter anymore, I guess, if you're answering them now. How's Tokyo treating you?"

". . . It's fine. It's different, from Kyuushuu, but I like it."

"And how's Fudomine? Are you a regular already?"

More silence, but this time it was for a long stretch of time, and Chitose wondered what Tachibana was thinking, what he was going to say. But he decided, instead, to break the silence himself.

"You guys better be doing good, because I just joined Shitenhoji's tennis club, and I want to be able to kick your ass at Nationals."

" . . . But what about your eye?"

"It's completely healed," Chitose lied. He could almost see Tachibana relax at the news, see his lips curve into a small smile.

"Good," Tachibana replied. "So, how's Osaka?"

They talked for about half an hour, and Chitose was relieved to find them back in the same place they had been, before the injury. It was a good place to be, Chitose decided, better than when Tachibana was ignoring his phone calls and they weren't talking. Still, as he hung up the phone, it was so easy to feel the physical space that now separated them.

Finals were over soon, and Chitose found himself going with Shiraishi and Kenya to look at the school rankings before all of them headed home.

"I hate you," Shiraishi told him.

Kenya was no less scandalized. "How can an idiot like you score so much higher than us?"

"My bad," Chitose replied. "Next semester I won't try as hard."

"But you didn't try at all!"

Chitose laughed, diffusing the situation, and then Shiraishi was holding out his fist.

"To our third year."

Kenya and Chitose smiled, their hands going to meet Shiraishi's.

"To Nationals," Kenya added.


	3. Tezuka

There was only one word for what Chitose was feeling right now. Jealousy. It was an irrational, ugly thing, based on a snippet of conversation over the phone and nothing at all tangible.

"Have you heard of Tezuka Kunimitsu?" Tachibana's voice had been completely unreadable.

"Yeah," Chitose had replied, "I've heard of him."

"He's in Kyuushuu recuperating from his arm injury. Do you think that you can check up on him the next time you go home to visit your family?"

Chitose's breath had caught in his throat. Kippei, he had wanted to say, why are you so interested in Tezuka Kunimitsu? "Yeah, sure. It'll give me the chance to check this guy out for myself."

"I'm home!" Chitose called out as he made his way through the door of his house, unceremoniously dropping his large duffel bag onto the floor. "Is any one in?"

He could hear a racket in the kitchen and could smell something burning, and logically deduced that his father was cooking something. Sure enough he was, his lumbering frame hunched over the small oven, short hair and beard in typical disarray.

"Senri!" his father beamed at him when he stepped into the kitchen. "Are you finished with school already?"

"No," Chitose said, coughing at the clouds of black smoke that were filling the air. "I just decided to take a vacation. Does mom know you're cooking?"

"It's a surprise," his father replied, running around as he pulled out pots and pans, "don't tell her."

Wherever his mother was, Chitose certainly didn't want to be there when she found out his dad had been cooking again. "Yeah. . . where's Miyuki?"

"At school?"

Chitose looked at the clock, which read six o'clock. "Try again, Dad."

"I'm sure wherever she is she's having fun," his father replied, pouring some. . . mayonnaise? into the soup pot. "And that's the most important thing."

"Okay. I'm going to go look for her."

"Have fu~un!"

It's not like it would be hard to find her. Miyuku was more obsessed with tennis than Chitose had ever been, a facet of her personality that Chitose blamed squarely on Tachibana.

It was a familiar path to Miyuki's favorite tennis courts, one that Chitose didn't even have to think about as he walked towards them. Kyuushuu was warmer than Kansai, spring coming earlier to the island prefecture. Chitose was just glad to be able to wear a thinner style tunic and his geta sandals again, enjoying the sharp noises they made as he walked.

Soon enough he came to those familiar courts. He flipped the latch on the chain link door, coming to stand inside the shaded confines of the courts, seeing his sister's tiny frame almost immediately.

"Miyu-" but then he realized she wasn't alone.

Speak of the devil, he thought, remembering that there was a pretty famous physical rehabilitation center just a block away from these courts. He had only seen photographs and video before, but there was no mistaking it. The uncharacteristically unkempt hair, that stern expression. . . way too serious, Chitose thought, for a kid their age. But then Miyuki was looking up and noticing him.

"Oni-san!" she yelled, her baseball cap falling off as she ran to hug her brother. She all but attached herself to his arm, pulling him towards Tezuka. "Aniki, you have to meet thief-bro."

Chitose raised an eyebrow at that. Thief-bro?

"I've been teaching him how to play tennis," she said, right before Chitose found himself standing in front of Tezuka Kunimitsu.

So this was the guy Tachibana had been worried about. He was good-looking, Chitose had to admit, tall and well built, eyes glaring slightly behind his glasses. Chitose wondered if Tezuka's eyes always looked like that.

"You must be Tezuka," Chitose said, reaching out his hand.

Tezuka's handshake was firm against his palm, and he nodded. "And you must be Chitose Senri."

"The one and only." Chitose grinned. "I'm flattered you've heard of me."

But Tezuka didn't say anything back to that, just stood silently in front of him. He didn't seem to be the type to speak when unnecessary, but Chitose didn't mind. It gave him the opportunity to study the planes of Tezuka's face, the curve of his lips. What exactly was it about this dull guy, Chitose asked himself, that had Tachibana so interested? Some kind of darkness, in the pit of his stomach, and Chitose wanted to find out. He raised a hand, brushing Tezuka's hair out of his face, the backs of his fingers brushing against surprisingly soft skin.

Tezuka's eyes weren't glaring anymore. They widened, minutely, in surprise, head jerking back.

"You had a leaf in your hair," Chitose said by way of explanation, his hand still in the space that Tezuka's cheek had just vacated. He hadn't missed it, that deep flush that flared on Tezuka's cheek for just an instant, before disappearing again.

Miyuki was looking back and forth between them, curious. "Eh? You know thief-bro, oni-san? Why are you here, anyway?"

"Oh, that," Chitose said, dropping his arm as he smiled. "Dad's cooking dinner tonight, so I thought I'd treat my cute little sister to McDonalds."

"McDonald's?" Miyuki asked, eyes lighting up. "Sweet!"

"Hey, thief-bro," Chitose said to Tezuka, "why don't you come with us?"

"No," a short pause, and then, as an afterthought, "thank you."

"Suit yourself," Chitose said. "I'll see you later, then."

But Tezuka was already walking away, so Chitose left too, Miyuki skipping to keep up with his longer strides.

The next day Chitose dragged his bike out of the garage, thinking it would be a good change of pace from his usual walks. Plus, on his bike, it only took him about five minutes before he got to the rehabilitation center that Tezuka was, presumably, staying in. Chitose skipped up the steps of the building, hoping he hadn't come at an inopportune time.

"Tezuka Kunimitsu," he said to the woman at the reception desk, a young nurse who couldn't have been older than Watanabe. She smiled warmly as she checked the records, and Chitose used those few moments to scan the building. It was only slightly less sterile than an actual hospital, swathed in grays and blues, the furniture a cheap kind of plastic and pleather.

"Room 1-5," the receptionist said. "He should be finished with his morning session."

"Thank you," Chitose said, smiling at her before he started to make his way down the hall.

Tezuka's room was fairly close to the front lobby, just around a bend in the hallway. When Chitose got there the room was empty, so he went in and made himself comfortable on the bed. There was some kind of outdoor travel magazine folded neatly on the nightstand, and he flipped through it as he waited for Tezuka.

"Chitose?"

Chitose looked up to see Tezuka standing in the doorway. He wondered if the other boy was surprised at all to see him; if he was, it wasn't registered on his face.

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?" So curt as to be almost impolite, but Tezuka did have some sense of etiquette. Chitose could practically see the gears in his head turning, see him suppressing his desire to tell Chitose to get out right then and there.

Chitose only sat up on the bed and shrugged. "Kippei asked me to make sure you were okay, so I'm here to make sure."

"I'm fine."

"How's your shoulder healing?"

Tezuka's hand moved upwards, coming to rest on the injured shoulder. "It's healing fine."

"Is it really so awful having me here?" Chitose asked, chuckling. "I came all this way, you could at least sit down and talk."

Tezuka was thinking again, on the edge between compliance and rejection. In the end he must have chosen the former, as he started taking small steps forward. There weren't any chairs in the small room, and the only place to sit down was next to Chitose on the bed. The mattress shifted under his weight, and he sat with his shoulders straight and stiff. Tense, Chitose thought.

"Do you always do everything Tachibana asks you to?" Tezuka asked.

"Yeah, pretty much, actually."

Tezuka gave him a questioning glance, but apparently wasn't interested in pursuing the matter. "What exactly did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, I don't know. How you're liking Kyuushuu. How your tennis training is going. School, gossip, weather. Although you don't really seem like a chit chat type of guy, huh?"

There was a short, measured silence before Tezuka answered. "I'm generally not one for small talk."

"Yeah, I see." Chitose leaned forward, closer, noting that Tezuka looked away just a little bit as he did so. "Is it okay if I look at your shoulder?"

He didn't wait for an answer, and besides, it was the flimsiest of pretenses anyway. His hand reached up, pressing against Tezuka's shoulder, their proximity now too close to be ignored. Tezuka's breathing completely stopped at the initial contact, then came back, just a little bit more irregular, a little bit faster than before. A subtle shade of pink had blossomed on his cheeks.

So surprisingly responsive, Chitose thought, fingers moving slowly towards the collar of Tezuka's shirt. Just a little touch, a little body heat. He found himself wondering what kinds of expressions a dull guy like Tezuka would make if they were to have sex, what noises he could lull from those lips.

Chitose's fingers wrapped around Tezuka's collar, gently pulling it to the side, knuckles brushing hot skin. Underneath the stoic exterior, Chitose noted, Tezuka was just as hormonal as the next guy.

"Tezuka-kun."

Chitose could see every muscle in Tezuka's body freeze up, and he dropped his hand. He looked up to see a nurse smiling in the doorway.

"Tezuka-kun," she said, "lunch is being served in the dining hall now."

"Thank you. I'll be there soon."

The nurse walked away, and Chitose watched Tezuka's cheeks return to their normal pale hue. Before Tezuka even got up Chitose was on his feet, walking over to where Tezuka's cell phone was laying on the dresser.

"What are you doing?" Tezuka asked.

"Calling myself on your cell phone," Chitose said, already entering the numbers onto Tezuka's keypad. "Shishigaku is having a festival on Friday, and my sister wants you to go with her. You don't happen to have a yukata with you, do you?"

"No."

"In that case you can borrow one of mine." Chitose smiled. "I'll pick you up at seven."

At approximately eight o'clock on Friday night, Chitose found himself walking two steps behind Tezuka, who was dressed in a white and blue yukata. Miyuka, in her own purple yukata, was hanging off of Tezuka's arm, immensely enjoying his attention. Every few seconds she'd exclaim something like "Thief-bro, look at this!" or "Thief-bro, win me a stuffed animal!" She was already carrying an oversized bunny and a dolphin, with some takoyaki sticking out of her hand.

Chitose chuckled quietly to himself, before deciding that enough was enough.

"Miyuki," he said, "isn't that Sakura over there? Don't you want to show her all the things Thief-bro got you?"

"Oh yeah! Sorry, Thief-bro, I have to go. Thank you for the lovely date!"

Chitose almost laughed to see Tezuka's eye twitch at that.

"Date," he finally said, his tone of voice pretty much summing up his feelings on the matter.

"If I'm not careful," Chitose said, barely able to conceal his snickering, "you'll be stealing my little sister away from me soon."

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," Tezuka replied.

Chitose sped up momentarily to fall into step by Tezuka's side, so that the two could walk by all the food and game stalls together.

"You look good in that yukata," Chitose remarked. A casual, off-handed remark, but one that made Tezuka catch his step. And then, a non sequitor. . . "You had fun with Miyuki, right?"

Chitose wasn't sure if Tezuka would admit it, and was pleasantly surprised when Tezuka answered with a soft noise of affirmation.

"It's okay to smile every now and then," Chitose teased, not surprised when Tezuka didn't respond to his comment. They walked down a row of stalls before Tezuka said anything again.

"Why are you doing this?"

Chitose shrugged. "Does it matter? Aren't you having a good time?"

"That's not the point."

It seemed as though Tezuka was going to say more, but they had come to a stop. Chitose had been leading them here ever since he had distracted Miyuki. They stood in front of a wooden equipment shack on the school grounds, set half a soccer field away from the lights and noise of the festival.

"Kippei and I used to come here when we skipped classes," Chitose said, opening the door and walking inside. One he was in he headed to the shelf and the bottle of sake he had stashed there earlier today, pulling it out along with two cups and setting it all on the floor. He kneeled behind them and gestured for Tezuka to sit.

Tezuka closed the door, and the sounds of the festival were just a low rumble now, indiscernible white noise. "What makes me think that you were a bad influence on Tachibana?"

Chitose laughed at that. "I don't know what side of Kippei he's been showing you, but he's not exactly a saint."

Tezuka sat down, and Chitose set a sake cup in front of each of them before pouring.

"I don't drink," Tezuka said.

"It's a sin to waste good sake," Chitose replied, his eyes locking onto Tezuka's. "And this is extremely good sake."

The straight-laced ones were usually the ones that surprised you the most, in Chitose's opinion, so really he wasn't surprised at all when Tezuka took the cup and started drinking it. He stifled the chuckle he felt when Tezuka initially cringed at the taste, but soon the other boy had his face schooled back into its usual non-expression. Chitose picked up his cup and downed it in one gulp, reaching for the bottle so he could refill both their cups.

"What exactly," Tezuka started, "is your relationship with Tachibana?"

Chitose froze for a moment, but then continued to pour the sake. He decided to just stay quiet for a moment and see where Tezuka's line of questioning would go.

"If you're interested in me because you think Tachibana is, that's not the case." Tezuka was staring at him, watching him closely, and it figured that Tezuka would be that perceptive.

"Maybe I'm interested in you for my own reasons," Chitose said, and it was true, at this point. "Maybe Tachibana has nothing to do with it."

"At any rate, your rivalry with him isn't any of my business."

"It's not really like that," Chitose replied, and that was absolutely the truth. Even when this had been about Tachibana, his emotions weren't as simple as rivalry.

"Besides," Tezuka continued, "Tachibana is dating one of his kouhei."

A pang, through his heart, and his vision blurred a little bit.

"What?" His voice was so quiet he wasn't sure if had had said it our not, and maybe Tezuka was confused now as he blinked at him. Chitose couldn't tell. Breath, he told himself. His head was somewhere else but then he was pulling himself back to this shack, sitting on this wood floor, with Tezuka. He reached for the bottle, refilling their cups again. He forced himself to chuckle and say something inane. "He always did go for the younger guys."

Apparently it was enough, because Tezuka just nodded and lifted his cup to his lips. But Chitose could feel it again, that darkness inside of him that he hated, welling up in his stomach. Pathetic. He felt completely pathetic. But Tezuka was right there in front of him, face flushed red from alcohol, and Chitose was sure that he was reading him exactly right.

Chitose reached forward, one hand reaching to remove Tezuka's glasses, the other taking Tezuka's sake cup out of his hand and dropping it on the door. And then Chitose's lips were on his, pushing them together in a long, urgent kiss. Tezuka's lips, Chitose decided, were surprisingly soft, a trace of sake still on them. He tried to let any residual anger dissipate into that kiss, and then their tongues were intertwining, even as he pulled apart the folds of Tezuka's yukata.

"Chitose," Tezuka panted, breathing labored, "do you have-"

"Yeah," Chitose replied, one hand reaching into the folds to wrap around Tezuka's already hard cock. "Don't worry about it."

Tezuka's breath hitched at the touch, and he trusted his hips forward. But Chitose was spreading the yukata a little bit more, and then Tezuka's cock was exposed to the air, curving upwards past the fabric. Chitose continued to jerk him off as he used his other hand to pull out some lube and a condom.

"Hey," Chitose said, "do you think you could get on the counter top?"

Tezuka nodded, and they disentangled for a moment as Tezuka climbed onto the table and leaned back, his ass just on the edge. His yukata was falling off his shoulders, his whole lower body exposed. Chitose took a moment to appreciate the view as he poured lube out onto his fingers. He didn't waste any time after that, though, and pushed two fingers deep into Tezuka's hole.

Tezuka threw his head back at the abrupt penetration, legs spreading even wider as Chitose continued to fuck him with his fingers. He wrapped a hand around his cock, jerking himself off as those fingers thrust in and out of him.

"Chitose," he said, his voice taking on a throaty tone that Chitose hadn't thought he was capable of. "Hurry up. I want you inside of me."

Chitose shivered at the unexpected words. Always the straight laced ones. . .

"Yeah. Sure." He pulled his cock out of the folds of his Yukata, taking his fingers out to slide a condom on. He positioned himself in between the other boy's legs and pushed forward, feeling Tezuka ease open around his cock. Soon he had pushed himself all the way in, and both of them were sweaty and panting.

Chitose placed his hands on the table, one of each side Tezuka's head, and pulled his dick almost all the way out before slamming it back in. Tezuka arched at the almost violent movement, his legs coming up to wrap around Chitose's waist.

"How's that?" Chitose asked, pulling out and thrusting back in once again, but Tezuka was too busy moaning to answer. Chitose was building up a rhythm, really slamming into the other boy as he fucked him. The table banged against the wall with every thrust, and it wasn't long before Chitose came, vision blurring as he felt his semen shoot into the condom.

When he came down from his orgasm Chitose felt a vague sense of embarrassment that he had come so soon, and pulled his cock out to kneel down in front of the table. His hand replaced Tezuka's on the other boy's still hard cock, and then his tongue was diving inside Tezuka's hole, twisting as he pushed it in as deep as it would go. Tezuka was practically shouting now, and his cock twitched in Chitose's hand as he came, white streams shooting out onto his yukata.

It was a few moments before their breathing evened out, and then they were moving, albeit slowly, to make themselves presentable again. To be honest, Chitose was disappointed. He had been planning an altogether different kind of sex for the two of them, slow and hedonistic. He had wanted to see just how many expressions and noises he could coax out of someone like Tezuka Kunimitsu. And it had turned into something else entirely, just because of Tachibana and some small tidbit of information.

"Hey," Chitose said, "let's go back to my place. It'll be more comfortable than falling asleep here."

"What about your family?"

Chitose shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"If you don't think so, then it doesn't."

It didn't take long to walk back to Chitose's house. They stumbled into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as they hit the mattress.

The next morning Chitose was the first one to wake up. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not; sure, Tezuka seemed like he was usually an early riser, but Chitose was fairly certain that the other boy had never been drunk before in his life. At any rate, the house was silent, and he figured every one in his family was out. Which suited him just fine.

Tezuka woke up about half an hour later. Chitose was sitting on the floor then, leaning against the bed as he flipped some magazine and contemplated how pissed Tezuka would be if he lit up a bowl. But then he heard Tezuka stirring underneath the blankets, and looked over to see blood-shot, half-opened eyes.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"If this is how people feel the morning after drinking, why do they do it?"

Chitose chuckled at that. "Do you want breakfast?"

Tezuka's face turned green. "No."

"Are you sure? Food and water generally help hangovers, you know."

"No. I'm certain."

"Suit yourself," Chitose said. He reached his hand to brush over where Tezuka's morning erection was tenting through the blanket. "Do you want to fuck me?"

A long pause. "Don't be vulgar."

"Don't tell me you're too hungover for morning sex," Chitose said, making a mental note that sometimes sake wasn't really the best way to go about things. "Do you want me to suck you off?"

An even longer pause. "Yes, please."

Chitose grinned as he climbed back into bed.


	4. Tachibana

There was a small bar on the same block as their hotel. Just a hole in the wall place, with watered down beer and sake, and that's where Chitose headed now. He stepped through the door and sat down at the formica countertop, getting the bartender's attention.

"I'll have a cup, too," he said gesturing towards the man next to him.

Watanabe spared Chitose a sideways glance before speaking.

"Don't bother," he told the bartender. "He's underage."

"Sensei," Chitose said, "you're so cruel. I'll take a coke, then."

Watanabe poured some sake from a bottle into his cup, put out his cigarette to take a drink. "Is there something I can help you with, Chitose?"

Shitenhouji had made it to Nationals, and the team was in Tokyo for the tournament. Shiraishi had been pumped up about it for weeks now, convinced that this year they would actually manage to beat Rikkai, but it was another team that was the focus of Chitose's attention. "I want to go scout Fudomine's match."

Watanabe shrugged. "So go do it already."

"Sensei," Chitose teased, "can't you act even a little bit jealous?"

Watanabe turned to face him, measuring. "Why are you here, Chitose?"

The abrupt change in tone surprised him, but it really shouldn't have. Chitose had only been playing under Watanabe for a season now, but it hadn't escaped him that the man was a lot more perceptive than his looks and general personality would lead you to believe.

"I guess. . . I'm just postponing things." Chitose chuckled softly, a half-hearted sounding thing. "I haven't seen him in awhile."

There was a silence, and then a sigh. "There's nothing for it, then. Let's go together. We'll pick up Ishida on the way, I'm sure he'll want to go see his brother."

"Brother?" Chitose asked, blinking in confusion.

"Didn't you know? Ishida's ototo plays for Fudomine."

In the end they picked up both Ishida and Zaizen, the four of them heading to the court where Fudomine was playing Echigo.

"They're not so great," Zaizen said, watching them play.

"But they're winning," Ishida pointed out.

"Yeah, against a really awful team. Why are we scouting these guys again, coach?"

"Eh?" Watanabe asked, having already lost interest in the matches. "Well, we might be playing them, after all."

The match was over pretty quickly, Fudomine winning 6-0, and then all the players were shaking hands at the net.

"Can we leave now?" Zaizen asked. "Or do we have another potential opponent to scout?"

"Why'd you even come?" Watanabe asked, on his sixth cigarette in the last hour. "We never asked you."

"Huh? What kind of thing is that for a coach to say?"

"Hold on," Ishida said, hands gesturing for the rest of them to be quiet, "I want to say hello to Tetsu."

They waited until the court had emptied out a little bit more before making their way down the stands, and by the time they got there Fudomine had already put their black jackets on. Chitose could see Tachibana, more and more in focus with every step he took. His hair was still short, was now black, but he was just as good looking as Chitose remembered. Even the way he moved was the same, cool and languid, every motion imbued with his unique brand of confidence. The two Ishidas were hugging in the periphery of his vision, and then Tachibana was looking up, surprise melting into a smirk as he saw Chitose standing there.

"Chitose," he said, by way of a greeting.

"Kippei." Chitose grinned. "Don't tell me you've gotten this weak over the year we've been apart."

Tachibana's smirk grew even larger, and he was about to retort when one of his teammate's voices interrupted the moment.

"Hey! Wait just a minute, you can't say-"

"It's okay, Kamio," Tachibana said. "This is Chitose Senri. He's a friend of mine."

Once Kamio realized the situation he muttered an embarrassed apology, previous anger seemingly dissipated. It gave Chitose time to look him over. Cute, Chitose decided, bright red hair falling over his face, but too small and skinny for Chitose's taste. There was a boy of, Chitose swore, Kamio's exact build standing next to Kamio, staring at Chitose with great interest. This one had long blue hair, and Tachibana was introducing him as Ibu.

Exactly which one of these two, Chitose wondered, was sleeping with Tachibana?

"What a heartwarming reunion," came Watanabe's sing song voice, coming to sling his arm over Chitose's shoulder. "Gin and Tetsu. Chitose and Tachibana. It almost calls for a celebration."

"Do you want to go to dinner with us?" it was Kamio who asked it, but the rest of Fudomine was looking at them expectantly.

"You boys should definitely go," Watanabe said, patting Chitose's shoulder. "Catch up on old times. I'll even look the other way if you come back late to the hotel."

"I'll call Kenya and the others," Zaizen said, already getting out his phone. Chitose looked over as Watanabe gave him a wink and left, waving over his shoulder. And then Fudomine was leading them away from the courts and through Tokyo, to some soba place that Ishida's little brother seemed to be extremely excited about.

Chitose walked a little bit behind Tachibana, watching as Kamio hovered around his captain like a hummingbird. Shinji was there, too, walking on Tachibana's other side with long, calm steps. But it was obvious, now, where Tachibana's attentions laid, soft glances when he thought no one was looking, Kamio beaming up at him.

It made Chitose want to throw up.

When they got to the small restaurant they had to separate into several tables, no one table big enough to fit all of them. As soon as Kamio sat down Chitose was beside him, smiling as Kamio blinked up with mild surprise. Tachibana and Kenya also sat at their table, Tachibana asking Kenya if he was related to the Oshitari from Hyoutei. The conversation turned the way of tennis and rival teams, and while Chitose contributed his attention was focused on Kamio. Chitose had been sitting much too close to the other boy, could tell Kamio noticed by the faint flush to his cheeks.

"I didn't know," Chitose said, leaning towards him, "that Kippei had such cute kohei."

Kamio looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but then Tachibana was addressing them.

"Chitose. Please refrain from molesting my teammates." Teasing, but it had an edge to it that Chitose recognized. He leaned back in his chair, deflated, and barely touched his noodles.

Later on the the restaurant had cleared and they pushed several tables together, not really fitting but close enough. As the two teams joked Chitose got up, making his way outside.

He just needed some time alone, some fresh air, and he stretched his legs as he leaned against a bike stand, looking up at the night sky.

"You can't see the stars in Tokyo."

Chitose looked over at the sound of Tachibana's voice, saw his face in profile beside him. Relaxed and calm, eyes glowing the way they did when he was content.

"It's something I miss from Kyuushuu," Tachibana continued.

"What about me?" Chitose asked, careful to make his voice sound teasing and cheerful. "Do you miss me?"

"Idiot," Tachibana muttered, but then, "of course I do. You were my best friend."

The statement made him sad for so many different reasons, but outside he was still smiling.

"Is it true you've attained the next stage of Muga no Kyouchi?"

Chitose nodded, not particularly wanting to speak at the moment.

"I heard from Miyuki that you were researching it at some university."

"Yeah, but don't tell any one. My reputation would be ruined if my teammates found out I was actually studying something."

Tachibana chuckled at that. "But you were always like that, when you found something that interested you. Like shogi. . . you always had your nose in a book reading about it."

"Kippei-"

He had been watching Tachibana as Tachibana watched the stars, but now Tachibana was turning, facing him. His eyes met Tachibana's, and Chitose hoped that his emotions weren't written too clearly on their surface.

"Chitose," Tachibana said, "Let's play each other. We'll both win our next matches, and then we'll meet each other on the courts. One more time, I'd like to play you with my full strength."

Chitose's heart was palpitating in his chest, and he was nodding. "Yeah. . . I'd like that."

And, for a moment, it was just like old times. The two of them, laying on the tennis court at night and stargazing, talking about everything and nothing.

"I want to play tennis," Tachibana had said, once, and Chitose had followed him. And it was always the two of them, side by side, close enough to touch only Chitose had always been too scared.

They were side by side again now, and Chitose wanted to reach out. What would Kippei do, he thought, if he kissed him right now? And that same fear flared up in his heart, fear of rejection and change and nothing good. Kippei, his best friend, and the boy he had been in love with for so long.

And then Kamio was walking out of the restaurant, teammates stumbling behind him, breaking the moment.

"Tachibana-san," he said, "we're heading back now."

"Yeah." And the Tachibana was standing up, smiling at Chitose one more time. "See you later, then."

Chitose nodded. "Bye, Kippei."

He watched as the team walked off, not missing it when Tachibana slung his arm over Kamio's shoulder and pulled him closer.

Chitose left before his teammates came out of the restaurant. He took a long way back to the hotel, ambling through streets both quiet and loud, through parks softly lit in the night. He walked for awhile before he found himself in front of that same bar from that morning, and he walked in to take a seat at the counter.

Different bartender, he thought, and he gestured to the man seated next to him, "I'l have a cup as well."

But Watanabe just looked at him, regarding him intently.

"You're not going to stop me?" Chitose asked, and Watanabe was already shrugging.

"I suppose it's okay, this one time."

The bartender placed a cup in front of Chitose, and Watanabe filled it to overflowing.

"What's with," Watanabe asked, "that love sick expression on your face?"

"Am I that obvious?" Chitose asked. He chuckled, but it was a dull, limp sound. He could feel Watanabe's hand come to pat the top of his head.

"It's okay. You're young, and this was your first love. You'll have another."

"Is sensei offering?" Chitose asked. He had meant it as a joke, but his voice was completely flat as the words came out. Watanabe just smiled and poured him another cup of sake.

He stumbled into his room an hour later, relieved to find that Kenya was already asleep. As he fell asleep he thought about Tachibana and how everything had changed between them, even when he had always tried so hard to keep things the same. One ill-fated practice match one year ago and they were spiraling apart, planets with opposite orbits.

One more match, just like old times, but then he would be done. Tennis, Chitose decided, just didn't hold any interest for him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the main storyline. After this we see some of the story from Tachibana's perspective, then we have two alternate endings with different pairings for Chitose.


	5. Flashback

Hey." Tachibana leaned against the doorway of classroom 2-A, running a hand through his long blond hair. "Have any of you seen Chitose?"

The few students eating lunch in the classroom froze and stared up at him, and Tachibana wondered what exactly their problem was.

"Umm. . . we saw him heading off some where with Tanaka."

For such a ridiculously smart guy, Chitose was an idiot. One day, Tachibana thought, Chitose's complete inability to keep his dick in his pants was going to get him into a lot of trouble. He made his way out of the school and past the soccer field, coming to a familiar wooden shack. He opened the door without knocking, simply out of habit, relieved when he didn't open it to a more. . . unsavory scene.

"Hey, Kippei," Chitose said, lounging in one of the bean bag chairs he had dragged into the abandoned structure. "What's up?"

Tachibana quickly stepped into the shack and closed the door before any one could smell the smoke wafting out or see Chitose laying there with a small glass pipe in his hand. Tanaka was gone, but Chitose's uniform was untucked and wrinkled, and he had a definite sated expression on his face.

"Pass that over," Tachibana said, coming to sit beside him on the floor. He took the glass pipe and the lighter in his head, leaning forward to take a long, slow hit. They sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of schoolchildren playing muffled some distance away.

"You know," Tachibana said, before his head got too fuzzy, "just because Nationals is finished doesn't mean you can start skipping practice."

". . . there was practice this morning?"

"Chitose, come on."

"Yeah, yeah," Chitose said, hands up in a placating gesture. "We'll win next year, and all that, blah blah."

"Just don't miss practice this afternoon."

"Why? Something going on this afternoon?"

"Ranking matches. We're playing each other."

"Yeah?" Chitose grinned. "Looking forward to getting your ass kicked?"

"Idiot," Tachibana said, but he was chuckling. After that, their conversation started drifted off into the nonsensical, although they wouldn't be able to remember it in a few hours anyway.

Later on, both boys were sweating as they fought it out on the court, their heads clear of the haze they had found themselves in earlier. It was a close, even match, Tachibana's aggressive style the perfect counter for Chitose's more cerebral tennis.

But this was it, Tachibana thought, chasing after the ball. His lips pulled up into a cocky grin. He had been waiting to show Chitose this, had been waiting to see the surprise on Chitose's face. He saw the ball coming, saw the perfect opportunity. . . abare dama.

He was still smiling as the ball hit Chitose to the ground, but his smile faltered when he realized that something was seriously wrong. Chitose wasn't getting back up. Chitose was curling up on his side on the ground, and then the other members were rushing to the court. He could hear some one yelling about an ambulance, but Tachibana couldn't move, shock freezing him to that one spot on the court.

The next day Tachibana didn't go to practice. He went home directly after school, doing his homework in the study as An pretended not to hover around him. Finally she slammed a vase of flowers in front of him on the table, startling him into looking up.

"Mom and I are going to visit Chitose-san in the hospital," she said, "you should come."

Tachibana only shook his head as he looked back down at his homework, at the simple sheet of math he had been working on for the last hour. "I'm busy."

An and his mother came back from their visit two hours after that, and Tachibana was staring at the same exact page.

"He seems good," An said, "he'll probably be fine soon."

"You know, Kippei," he mother said, sighing in disappointment, "if you had only controlled yourself during the match, Senri wouldn't have been injured."

An frowned, reading the agreement on her brother's face.

For his part, Tachibana collected his books and made his way up to his room. There he sank into his mattress, wondering when Chitose was coming back from the hospital, wondering what he would say to him when he did. An had said it had been a eye injury. . . so it shouldn't be that bad, right? But, Tachibana thought, his mother was right. He always had been too impulsive, too aggressive. . . if he hadn't been, Chitose wouldn't be in the hospital right now.

He looked to his side, eyes catching his reflection in a mirror. He looked like such a delinquent, he thought, with that long, bleached hair. All of a sudden it felt too heavy on his head, and he got up, grabbing a pair of scissors as he made his way to the bathroom.

Chitose came back from the hospital a few days later, but he still wasn't coming to practice. He was calling, though, messages in Tachibana's mail box asking him to call back. But Tachibana couldn't bring himself to call. He was such a coward, he thought. But every day at practice his eyes would continually flick back towards the tennis court gates, waiting for Chitose to step through.

Two weeks later he couldn't stand it anymore. In an impulsive moment he found himself shooting out of bed and walking that familiar path to Chitose's house. Once he got there, though, his energy had left him, and he lingered on the door step as he wondered what he should do next. Twice he turned to leave, but then his hand was reaching for the doorbell, seemingly of its own volition.

Silence, for a moment, and then footsteps heading from the upstairs down. The door swung open, and then Chitose was staring at him, his eyes huge.

"Your hair!"

"I cut it off," Tachibana said, hand reaching upwards to brush through his now close cropped hair. Now that Chitose had said it, he missed it, his head feeling all of a sudden light. "Can I talk to you?"

Chitose stepped aside so that Tachibana could come into the house, closing the door behind them. "Dude. You're the one that's been avoiding me. You haven't returned any of my calls."

"You haven't come to tennis club," Tachibana countered, completely unaware of what Chitose was going to say next.

"I turned in my resignation last week."

Tachibana could feel that cold shock freezing him in place again. He mumbled some sound or word of surprise, but the room was spinning around him. Chitose had quit tennis? Why? For how long? A million questions filtering through his head, but he couldn't even voice one.

"Yeah, well, it's kind of pointless right now, I wouldn't do the team any good." Chitose said, pointing to his injured eye. Tachibana felt a wave of guilt rush through him. And Chitose was speaking as if it wasn't even a big deal. Tachibana had just forced him to quit tennis, and he was acting like everything was completely normal. "The season's over anyway."

"There's next year," Tachibana argued.

"Well, we'll see what happens next year then." A pause, Chitose's expression brightening up, and Tachibana figured he really was an idiot if he couldn't see the ramifications of this. "Do you want to come upstairs and hang out?"

Tachibana shook his head no. "I just came to tell you. . . I came to apologize. I never meant for this to happen."

"I know-"

"I don't know what I would do if I couldn't play tennis again." It was the truth, but Chitose was looking at him with a sad expression now. Chitose was never thinking what Tachibana thought the other boy was thinking, and he wondered what was going through the other boy's head right now.

Tachibana went to reach for the front door. "Chitose. . . I'll see you in school."

Chitose nodded, and Tachibana let himself out.

That night he thought about all the years they had spent together, playing tennis together. He remembered when it had started, both of them ten years old. Tachibana's father had taken them to a tennis match. Him, Chitose, and An. Tachibana had been the one to become immersed in the game, the rules forever ingrained into him as he watched that one match. And An, because she had always idolized her big brother, followed every point that he did, their eyes running back and forth with every shot of the ball. Chitose alone hadn't been interested.

But later on they had camped out in a tent in Tachibana's backyard, a jar of freshly-caught fireflies flickering between them

"I want to play tennis," Tachibana had said. It was out of nowhere, but his mind had still been on that game he had watched earlier.

"If Kippei wants to play tennis," Chitose had said, "I want to play too."

The next day their mothers had signed them up for lessons.

And now it was over.

The next few days there was talk in Tachibana's household about Tokyo. Snippets of conversations, something about a transfer for work and his parents gong over the pros and cons of moving.

If they moved, Tachibana thought, he'd be different. No impulsive decisions, no drugs, and no alcohol. The kind of person who didn't send their best friend to the hospital with a possibly permanent injury.

When they moved, he'd be different.

* * *

An waved at him from where she was in the middle of a rally with some other girl, smiling happily. Tachibana frowned, knowing that her opponent would only use the distraction to her advantage. . . sure enough, there it was, a ball zooming past An's mildly shocked face. But then she was back in the game, serious again, and at any rate she was leading anyway.

After the game she was running up to him, even as the other girls were heading into the club room.

"Oni-chan," she said, "you didn't have to wait for me."

"I had to stay after school to talk to a teacher anyway, so I thought we could walk home together."

"Wait for me to change?"

Tachibana nodded, leaning against the chain link fence. It didn't take long for An to run back out of the club room, dressed in one of those skirts that Tachibana found way too short. At least, he thought, she was wearing shorts underneath.

"Can we walk past the boys' courts?" An asked. Tachibana's eyes narrowed at his sister, but her expression was all sugar and spice. "I just want to say hello to some friends in my class."

Tachibana sighed, but allowed his sister to lead him to the boys' courts. He understood why she disagreed with his decision to quit tennis, but she was going to have to learn to accept it. She hadn't really lied, though, and when they got to the courts she waved at some boys standing against the club house. Three of them waved back, though their expressions weren't exactly what Tachibana would call overjoyed.

The reason became clear enough in a second, when the coach came to talk to them. Well, talk wasn't exactly the right word. . . Tachibana and An couldn't hear the discussion from here, but it was clear that he was berating the small first years. Their upperclassmen were all watching, openly snickering at whatever the coach was saying. One of the first years looked up at An then, flushing in embarrassment at the fact that she was still watching, but then Tachibana was pulling her away.

"Come on, An," he said, "this is embarrassing."

An followed him, frowning as she nodded. "It's not fair, oni-san. They're really good. It's that stupid coach."

Tachibana didn't say anything back.

Kamio was the first one who sought him out. And where Kamio went, Shinji usually followed.

That day Tachibana was eating lunch alone in some secluded corner of the grounds. It was bordered by an old wall and some low lying trees, so it was the perfect place to sit beneath the shade and avoid all the other students. He hadn't exactly warmed up to any one yet, hadn't really made the effort, and at any rate it was more peaceful this way.

And then, rupturing his quiet like a storm cloud, a small, skinny boy with bright red hair.

"Tachibana-san," he said, head suddenly appearing out of a bush. "Do you mind if we eat lunch with you?"

Before he could say no there were two boys sitting down in front of him, pulling out their lunches like they were all friends. He swore he could hear An's voice, murmuring words of encouragement before her small footsteps carried her away.

"I'm Kamio Akira," the redhead said, and then gestured to his blue-haired friend, "and this is Ibu Shinji."

"Tachibana Kippei," Tachibana answered, though he was sure by now that they knew.

He watched them carefully, wondering what their pitch was going to be. Shinji had started eating a sandwich, neat little bites disappearing between his lips, and looked perfectly content to let Kamio do all the talking. Kamio, on the other hand, was noticeably less relaxed than his friends. He was sitting seiza style, but with his back pitched forward, arms straight and long and hands fisted on his knees. He was saying something about An, or about being in An's class, a light blush on his cheeks as his eyes avoided making contact with Tachibana's.

"Is it true you're a nationally ranked player?" It was Shinji who cut to the chase and asked the question, something Tachibana would only later learn was uncharacteristic for the duo.

"If that's what An told you," Tachibana replied, "she doesn't really have a reason to lie."

"Why don't you join the tennis club?" Kamio asked, eyes meeting Tachibana's for a brief moment before they looked away again.

"I don't play tennis anymore," Tachibana said.

"But. . ." Kamio's fists were clenching more tightly now, but then Shinji was finishing his sandwich and interrupting.

"Maybe," Shinji started, "if you join the team, the coach will listen to you. Because you're nationally ranked, you know, and even a guy like him can see how useful it would be to have a nationally ranked player on the team. And if he listens to you, you can get him to let us play, because we're pretty good. Better than the regulars."

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" Tachibana asked, deciding to ignore their plea for him to join the team.

Kamio's cheeks turned even redder at the question.

"Well, once we didn't, once Kamio lost his temper-"

"Shinji."

"-and threw a racket at one of an upperclassmen, and then the upperclassmen went to grab him-"

"Shinji."

"-and before we knew it we were all fighting, and I got a bruise and a black eye-"

"Shinji!"

Tachibana could feel a small smile tug at his lips. So the redhead had a fiery streak.

"Well," Shinji continued, "in the end, we were punished, and we weren't allowed to play tennis for two weeks. So, the point is, we just want to be able to play tennis."

"You should just start your own team," Tachibana stated, his old anti-authority streak flaring up minutely within him.

Both Kamio and Shinji were blinking up at him now, wondering.

"Can we do that?" Kamio asked.

Tachibana shrugged. "Is there any rule against it?"

But then the bell was ringing, marking the end of the lunch period.

"Tachibana-san," Kamio said, "can we eat lunch with you again tomorrow?"

Kamio was looking straight at him now, eyes plaintive underneath those long eyelashes, and Tachibana found himself nodding yes.

The other first years slowly made his acquaintance, one by one. Saying hello to him in the hallways, in between classes. Ishida, Mori, Uchimura, Sakurai. . . and behind them all, he could sense An's directing hand. He even found out that they had taken his suggestion to heart, commandeering an old tennis court on the school grounds for practice.

"Do you have a coach yet?" he asked one day at lunch.

Kamio shook his head no. "I've been asking the faculty members, but none of them really know that much about tennis."

"Oni-chan can be the coach," An said, because it was one of those rare days when she decided to join them. Tachibana shot her a withering glare, and she quickly changed the subject. Thinking about tennis made him think about Chitose, about Kyuushuu and Shishigaku and winning Nationals together.

A month after he had transferred to Fudomine, Tachibana found himself walking to lunch with just Kamio. Shinji was, apparently, sick for the day, and An was off with her girlfriends.

"How's the tennis club coming along?" Tachibana asked, telling himself that it was only politeness that made him ask.

"I guess it's okay," Kamio replied. "Some of the kids from the other tennis club found out about it though, and I heard they're not too happy."

Tachibana shrugged. "It really doesn't have anything to do with them."

"Yeah. It would still be great to have you on the team though. . ." but he trailed off, not as brave as An was when it came to pushing her brother.

They came to their usual spot and sat down on the grass there, Kamio fidgeting in the way he did when he was nervous about something.

"Tachibana-san," he said, eyes darting everywhere but Tachibana's direction, "I made you a bento."

"Did you?" Tachibana asked, in the midst of taking his own lunch out of his bag. He placed it back in as Kamio nodded and took out two small boxes, pushing one to wait in front of Tachibana.

Tachibana opened the plastic box, staring at its rather messily made contents. He picked up some rice in his chopsticks.

"Isn't a homemade lunch," Tachibana said, slowly as to watch Kamio's reaction, "something a girl usually makes for a boy?"

Kamio's cheeks were an angry red that matched his hair. But the food wasn't entirely bad.

"Thank you, Kamio," Tachibana said. "Tomorrow I'll have to make a bento for you."

"Does Tachibana-san cook?" Kamio asked, the blush of his cheeks slightly less prominent.

Tachibana nodded in reply.

Later on that night, Tachibana took over the kitchen to cook, An watching him with an amused expression.

"Kamio's cute, isn't he?" she asked, adding salt to one of his bowls. "You know, he was asking me about you before he even knew you played tennis."

"You shouldn't gossip," Tachibana replied, "it's unbecoming."

An only laughed.

About a week later Tachibana found himself standing at the tennis court that the first years had commandeered. An had finally convinced him, after days of nagging. He watched them take turns practicing on the court, watched Kamio and Shinji laughing with each other under the shade. He could feel a kind of emptiness in his stomach. . . a desire to be holding a racket, to be playing tennis with Chitose.

Guilt hit him at the thought of his childhood friend, and he turned away.

"Oni-chan. . . " An's voice, sad and lilting.

He was a good distance away from the court before he heard the running behind him, and he slowed down his pace to let Kamio catch up.

"Tachibana-san," Kamio asked, "are you okay?"

Tachibana stopped. Kamio was flushed and slightly panting from the run. His lips were parted just slightly, and Tachibana had the urge to kiss them.

"Kamio," he said, reaching out to grab onto Kamio's wrist. "Do you want to go to a love hotel with me?"

Kamio's eyes were saucers as he stared up at him. Tachibana felt all of a sudden embarrassed. Where had that come from? He had been too abrupt. He never had been as good as Chitose when it came to reading signs and making the proper moves.

"Sorry," he said, releasing Kamio's hand. "Forget I said anything."

"No, no," Kamio said, quickly reaching out to grab onto the sleeve of Tachibana's jacket. "I'll go."

"Are you doing anything on Saturday?"

". . . no."

"Do you want to meet me at the train station at noon?"

A nod. They stood there, awkwardly for a few moments, before Kamio mumbled his goodbyes and ran back to the courts.

On Saturday Tachibana walked to the train station, not surprised to find Kamio already waiting for him there. The boy was standing outside with a baseball cap over his red hair, obligatory headphones stuck in his ears. His body couldn't stay still, but he wasn't moving to the tune of any music, and Tachibana recognized it for what it was. Nervousness.

He walked up to the other boy, placing a hand on Kamio's shoulder as gently as it could. But it didn't stop Kamio from jumping about a foot in the air. Tachibana swore that even Kamio's hair was standing up, a frightened cat in an alley way.

Kamio jerked his headphones out of his ears. "Tachibana-san. Hey."

"Are you ready to go?"

Kamio nodded quickly as he followed Tachibana to the train, and they rode it to the Shibuya, Kamio's eyes darting this way and that. Tachibana wondered if he was worried about any one seeing them. They were standing so close together on the train, and Tachibana spent the time looking down at the top of Kamio's baseball cap, feeling awkward in the silence that had formed between them.

The silence followed them even as they got off, Kamio always following just half a step behind Tachibana. Tachibana picked a hotel at random, and then they were in the lobby, Kamio tugging his cap lower down on his face as he followed Tachibana through the halls and into their room.

Tachibana watched out of the corner of his eye, not missing the furious blush that spread over Kamio's face when Tachibana stopped at a vending machine to buy a condom. At least, Tachibana thought, Kamio hadn't looked at the other contents of the machine. . . there were worse things in there than just condoms.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

Kamio's attention seemed to be focused on the at that little packet in Tachibana's hand, but he managed to nod his assent to the question. Tachibana moved forward, frowning a little bit when Kamio took a step back, but at least this way he could maneuver Kamio onto the bed with just a few steps.

The back of Kamio's knees hit the bed and he plopped onto it with an utter lack of grace. The mattress shifted as Tachibana climbed on, and Kamio was still backing up, until there was nowhere else to go. Kamio laid on the bed, propped up on his forearms, as Tachibana hovered above and around him. Arms, legs touching, close enough to kiss. So cute, Tachibana thought, with that easy flush that always appeared so quickly on his cheeks. And he leaned down, until he could feel their breathing intermingle, but Kamio was almost shivering now.

"Kamio. . . are you okay?"

"It's just. . ." and he blushed, if it was possible, even more furiously, "I've never kissed any one before."

Tachibana backed off, but only by an inch, and Kamio was blinking up at him. "Are you sure you're okay doing this? We don't have to."

"No," Kamio replied, his answer quick. "I want to. I just never thought, with Tachibana-san. . ."

But that was all he was able to say, because then Tachibana was kissing him. They were soft kisses at first, just gentle presses against Kamio's lips. But, slowly, they grew into something else, heated and urgent. And when Tachibana's tongue teased at Kamio's lips, they opened easily, inviting him in, Kamio's hands fisting in Tachibana's shirt.

Still kissing the boy, Tachibana leaned forward, forcing Kamio to lay down completely one the bed. He felt Kamio's body jump a little when he pressed his erection into the other boy's thigh, but then he was reaching down with his hand, and Kamio was just as hard. Kamio gasped as Tachibana squeezed him through his pants, breaking their kiss for only a second before Tachibana reclaimed his lips.

Tachibana's hand make quick work of the zipper, and he pulled the shaft of Kamio's cock out, wrapping his hand around it and giving it a short pull. Kamio moaned, arching upwards against his touch, and Tachibana withdrew from their kiss. He watched Kamio's face, cheeks red and eyes tightly closed, his mouth a tiny 'o' as Tachibana's hand started jerking him off.

Several strokes later there was a physically awkward moment, Tachibana breaking contact so they could fumble with getting Kamio's pants off. But then that was done and Tachibana was crawling back down the bed as Kamio laid back down.

Tachibana placed his hands underneath Kamio's ass, lifting and opening him up. He could see that tight puckered hole come into view, and he brought his head forward, brought his tongue to press against it. He could feel Kamio's muscle's tense, could hear Kamio's short intake of breath, and could imagine the embarrassment that would be on his face right now.

"Tachibana-san, don-"

But Tachibana swirled his tongue around the edge of the hole, and Kamio let out a moan. Tachibana traced lazy circles over Kamio's hole, pressing more insistently with each one, until Kamio opened up to him and he could start to slide his tongue in. He started thrusting it in and out, and soon Kamio was all short pants and long moans, writhing around him.

Tachibana pulled his tongue out with a small, wet noise. At some point he had managed to get lubricant onto his fingers, and he pressed two fingers into Kamio's ass, watching as it sucked him in. He pulled them back and forth for awhile, watching as they disappeared and reappeared in Kamio's hole. Then he twisted them, scissoring, until he felt it had been enough.

Tachibana climbed back up the length of Kamio's body, pushing Kamio's thighs up and away.

"Hold your legs up for me," he said, and Kamio's hands came obediently to grasp the back of his thighs.

Tachibana leaned forward, balancing himself with one forearm on the bed while his other hand reached down to slip on the condom. He took hold of his cock, squeezing it as he pressed it gently against Kamio's hole. With a groan he pushed it forward, and he heard Kamio's breath hitch as the head of his cock slid inside.

Tachibana let go of his cock, bringing his arm down so he could support himself, both forearms around Kamio's head. Kamio's legs were sandwiched between their bodies, and Tachibana used a hand to brush the hair off of Kamio's forehead. He started to thrust shallowly, each time getting a little bit more of himself into Kamio's body, each time forcing a louder moan from Kamio's mouth.

By the time Tachibana was all the way inside the other boy, Kamio's eyes were clenched shut, his breathing short and irregular. Kamio was so tight around him that it almost hurt, so hot that it was all he could do to keep from slamming himself into him over and over again.

"Are you okay?" Tachibana managed to ask. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," Kamio replied, almost a whisper, but he was almost cringing.

"Sorry." He leaned down to place a kiss on Kamio's forehead. "I'll try to be fast."

Tachibana pulled out, slowly, before thrusting back in again. God. . . it felt so good, and he did it again, groaning at the tight heat. His own eyes shut as he fucked Kamio, only half aware of the pants and moans he elicited with each thrust of his hips. Kamio's hands were clawing at his arms, frantically pulling them together, and Tachibana moved his own hand down between them. Kamio was still hard against his stomach, and he wrapped a hand around Kamio's cock. He jerked it clumsily as he fucked him harder, faster, almost pounding him into the mattress, and then he groaned as he came, cock twitching inside Kamio's ass.

He kept thrusting, and Kamio came a few seconds later, making a mess between them.

Their breathing slowed, evened out, and when Tachibana pulled himself out of the other boy it was almost painful. And then, the haze of orgasm quickly receding, the two boys laid side by side on the bed. Painfully conscious, neither knew what to say to the other, what to do now.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Tachibana slid one hand underneath Kamio's head, the other over Kamio's stomach.

"We can take a short nap if you want," Tachibana said, "I paid for three hours."

Kamio nodded, but he didn't seem like he was going to go to sleep soon. One of his hands moved to tentatively lay on Tachibana's arm.

"Do you want to go see a movie later?" Tachibana asked. He could feel Kamio's heart speed up for just a beat.

"Yeah," Kamio murmured, "I'd like that."


	6. Ending No. 1: Tezuka

His head was throbbing. Where exactly, Chitose wondered, was he? What had he been doing? He blinked open his eyes, but it took a few minutes for him to regain his vision.

"Ii data," came a looming, threatening voice, and Chitose looked over to see Inui from Seigaku leaning over him, notebook in hand. "That batch of juice was certainly potent. . ."

Ah, yes. That horrible concoction his teammates had forced him to drink so that they could participate in the eating contest. Chitose realized that some one had laid him out on the sidewalk, and there were several other similarly situated tennis players sprawled outside the yakitori restaurant.

Chitose tried several times to stand up, finally overcoming the dizziness that hit him every time he did so. Where were his teammates? His eyes focused on the coaches having some kind of argument in the parking lot. At least, most of them were arguing. Watanabe was smoking a cigarette and kicking rocks behind them, generally pretending he didn't know what all the fuss was about.

"Are you okay?"

Chitose turned around to see two Oshitaris looking at him.

"You know," he said, "I can definitely see the family resemblance."

Kenya looked completely scandalized, but Yuushi was smirking at the comment.

"Honestly, Kenya," Yuushi said, "you should be flattered."

"Hey," Chitose said, scanning the crowd, "where's Shiraishi?"

Silence. Dead and complete. Even Konjiki and Hitouji, who had been stumbling towards them, froze. It was Tooyama who answered, eyes blinking wide as he scratched his head. "He wondered off with Kurobane from Rokkakku."

". . . Kurobane?"

Tooyama nodded vigorously. "Maybe they're playing a tennis match."

". . ." It was probably close to ten at night. Chitose turned to Kenya for answers.

"Apparently," Kenya said, "one of Inui's drinks contained an aphrodisiac."

Chitose cracked up at that, arm holding onto where his stomach was threatening to split from hilarity. "Oh, man, are you kidding? He is so going to kill that Inui guy tomorrow morning."

"What's an aphrodisiac?" Tooyama muttered in the background, only to be ignored.

"Well," Kenya said, "Koishikawa went to look for them, so hopefully it won't get too far."

Chitose's cell phone heralded the coming of a text message, beeping twice in his pocket. He flipped it open, lips twitching upwards in a small smile as he read the message there. This was certainly unexpected. He looked up to where Tezuka was in the middle of conversing with Atobe, and the other boy sent a surreptitious glance his way.

Chitose smiled. Unexpected, but not unpleasant.

Chitose finally managed to pull himself to his feet, and tugged Kenya over to a relatively isolated area.

"Kenya," he said, voice gravely serious, "can you stay at your cousin's house tonight?"

Kenya's eyes narrowed at him. "You have to be kidding me."

"Oh, come on, man," Chitose said, "I would do the same for you and you know it."

"You don't understand," Kenya hissed, and all of the sudden the aura around him grew very, very dark. "That guy is the bane of my existence. I remember when we were kids together, and he would trick me into playing doctor with. . ."

"What's this about doctors?" Yuushi asked, all of the sudden beside them. Kenya froze in the middle of his tirade.

"Kenya was just saying," Chitose said, "that he was going to sleep over at your place tonight. See the family and catch up, you know?"

"Kenya, what a pleasant surprise," Yuushi all but purred. "I'll call mother right now to let her know that you're coming. She'll be so excited."

As Yuushi flipped open his phone and walked away, Kenya glared darkly at Chitose. "One day. When you least expect it. I will get even with you."

Chitose felt a shiver race down his spine, but. . . Kenya would get over it. Eventually. Right?

The coaches for all the schools had apparently reached some kind of agreement, and the gathered teams were starting to split up and go their separate ways. Chitose watched Tezuka's back as he walked away, surrounded by his vice-captain and that Fuji boy.

"Earth to Chitose. Earth to Chitose."

Chitose looked down to see Tooyama waving his arms at him.

"Hey, we're going to the station now," Tooyama said.

"You guys go ahead. I think I'll walk."

"Hmm?" Tooyama blinked questioning eyes up at him, but then Hitouji was pulling him away to join the rest of the team.

"Don't have too much fun," Watanabe sang, as they disappeared into the night.

Chitose watched them go before turning in the opposite direction, heading back to the tennis courts that they had come from a few hours ago. It wasn't far from the restaurant, which was most likely why so many teams had ended up eating there tonight.

The complex was completely different at night, only a few lights along the periphery of the structure, everything else covered in darkness. Tezuka was a lone figure just inside the gate, standing with his tennis bag slung over one shoulder.

"You seemed so irritated when I texted you last time," Chitose said, interrupting the stillness in the air, "but now you're the one getting in touch with me."

Tezuka turned to look at him, his expression as placid as ever. "Are you complaining?"

"Never." Chitose came to lean on the wall beside Tezuka, so that they were side by side, almost touching. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Are you quitting tennis?"

Chitose frowned, not expecting that line of questioning. "You knew I wanted to quit after playing Kippei."

A pause, pregnant between them.

"It would be a waste," Tezuka finally said, "for you to stop playing."

Chitose sighed. "Why is tennis so important to you?"

"Why isn't it to you?" Tezuka was looking at him like there was something he didn't understand, but then he was shifting, foot moving forward. "I've said my piece. I'll go now."

Tezuka walked away, but Chitose stumbled into step beside him. Tezuka's expression was characteristically blank, his features out of focus in the dim yellow light of the street lamps. Was he irritated, Chitose wondered, because Chitose didn't take tennis seriously? Chitose reached out, intertwining his fingers with Tezuka's before jerking the other boy to a stop.

"Sorry," he said, voice soft. His free hand reached up, fingers nudging Tezuka's chin upwards, so that their lips were just that much closer together. He leaned down, bringing them together.

Tezuka didn't move from his position, but he kissed Chitose back, lips soft and yielding. Chitose pulled away, breaking their contact, but he was still close enough to feel the small breath that left Tezuka's lips at that moment.

"Why are you apologizing?" Tezuka breathed it more than he said it, murmurs against Chitose's lips.

"You'd probably like me better," Chitose replied, "if I was a more serious guy, huh?"

"It's fine. I should go."

But Chitose wasn't letting go, was pulling Tezuka closer for another kiss.

When they parted Chitose tugged Tezuka forward, pulling him into step with him. He turned, Tezuka following as they walked in silence back to Chitose's hotel room.

It seemed as though no time had passed at all by the time they got back to that dull little room, and then they were falling onto the bed, mouths meeting in open, fevered kisses.

"Didn't you say you had to go?" Chitose asked, teasing, even as he pulled off Tezuka's shirt.

"Shut up," Tezuka said, concise as always as he crushed his lips against Chitose's.

Tezuka tasted so good, Chitose thought, like flavored toothpaste or spearmint gum. He wanted to taste all of him, and he pressed kisses down his jaw, swirled circles with his tongue on his neck, taking his time as he made his way lower still. The salty sweet taste of lingering sweat, and then he was spreading Tezuka's legs apart, sucking on the juncture where Tezuka's thigh met his groin.

Tezuka was moaning, one delicious noise after another. He was so loud, in bed, as if all the words he never said were trying to tumble out of him. Eventually Chitose took pity on him, on his too hard erection, leaking pre-cum onto his stomach, and went to take the shaft of Tezuka's cock in his mouth. He sucked and hummed, then maneuvered himself above Tezuka so that the other boy could return to favor.

Chitose's eyes closed in pleasure as he felt Tezuka's mouth close around the head of cock. As he felt Tezuka's tongue, heavy and languid, swirling around it. And then Tezuka's tongue was pushing against the slit of his penis, and Chitose swore he saw stars.

Chitose lifted his mouth off of Tezuka's cock.

"Lube's near your head," Chitose said, and he could hear Tezuka's hand fumbling blindly on the nightstand.

Chitoses shifted just an inch forward, spreading Tezuka's legs even more as he watched that puckered hole come into view. He bent his head down to to press his tongue in circles around it's rim, taking his time to taste the other boy before pushing his tongue into his hole. Tezuka shivered at the contact, thrust back onto his tongue, and then Chitose felt two wet fingers slide into his ass.

He moaned at the pleasure that ran through him, nearly forget where he was or what he was doing. He could have stayed like this forever, Tezuka's fingers fucking him and his tongue in Tezuka's ass, but he wanted more. He got up, positioning himself so that he was kneeling and grabbing onto the headboard, and then he felt Tezuka getting into position behind him.

He could feel Tezuka's chest on his back, Tezuka's legs on his thighs, Tezuka's rigid hardness, cool and click, along the cleft of his ass. Then Tezuka shifted, and Chitose was shivering as he felt Tezuka's cock push slowly inside his hole.

It felt so good, and then Tezuka was fucking him in long, slow strokes, making him feel as though he were on the verge of being split open. Tezuka reached a hand around him, wrapping fingers around his cock. Soon Tezuka's measured thrusts became harder, faster, more erratic, any sense of control or rhythm gone. Chitose could hear Tezuka panting behind him, could feel Tezuka's breath on his neck. When they came they came together, Chitose spurting onto the hotel sheets.

After cleaning up they laid in bed together, neither of them particularly sleepy. Chitose's mind wondered to the joint that he had buried in his wallet, but the thought of Tezuka abruptly leaving kept him from going to get it. He had decided the last time they had slept together that he liked Tezuka's presence in his bed. The way he smelled, the way he moved when he was asleep.

Instead of lighting up he reached over to brush Tezuka's hair out of his face, tangle his fingers in those soft strands. Tezuka blinked at him, face still flushed from orgasm, eyes strangely pretty without his glasses to cover them

"I think you enjoy tennis more than you admit," Tezuka said

Chitose laughed at the utter randomness of the comment. "Dude. Don't tell me you're thinking about tennis right now."

Tezuka didn't say anything, just waited.

"I never said I hated it," Chitose explained, "I just don't think it's as important as you do."

A pause, and then Chitose was asking the same question he had asked earlier, only now he was genuinely curious. "Why is tennis so important to you?"

"Because it's fun," Tezuka said. Simply, so like a child that it startled Chitose for a brief moment. But then Tezuka was saying something else, even without Chitose having to prod him for it. "I'm going to Germany when the school year's done. To play professionally."

"No way," Chitose said, a little bit in awe of the conviction in Tezuka's voice. But he could see Tezuka there, in the realm of professional tennis. It seemed to fit.

"Maybe," Chitose joked, "when I graduate I'll come be your manager."

Tezuka snorted, an inelegant, unexpected sound. "No. Thank you."

Their breath was evening out now. Tezuka's eyelids were half-lowered, and Chitose wondered if his were too. Maybe they were sleepier then they had thought, or maybe sleep had just caught up to them after all that. But, still, Chitose found himself wanting to talk.

"Tezuka," he said, and even his voice sounded sleepy, "I'm still in Tokyo for the next week. After the National finals are over, do you want to go on a date?"

"Date."

"Yeah. I want to go on a date with you."

There was a slight blush on Tezuka's cheeks. Or maybe that was still the afterglow.

"Fine." Tezuka finally said.

"Good," Chitose said, but now it was more of a mumble. His eyes felt heavy now, and he wasn't going to fight it. A smile on his lips, he fell asleep.


	7. Ending No. 2: Watanabe

Watanabe made his way down the rather sterile halls of the Osaka shogi institute. This part of the building was nothing like the lobby, Watanabe thought, disappointed. The lobby was very much constructed in a traditional Japanese fashion, all shoji screens and bonsai plants. . . this part looked like an office building. Room 405, the receptionist had told him, but he wasn't in a rush to get there. Not that a guy like Watanabe was ever in a rush to get anywhere.

His sister had set this up for him, kind of an early birthday present, knowing that shogi was a hobby of his. Private lessons with a professional shogi player or something like that, Watanabe didn't know. As much as he enjoyed the game he wasn't all that into it, had only gotten halfway through his copy of volume one of Habu no Zunou before tossing it in his closet.

Ah, room 405. He opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Sensei?"

Watanabe froze at that voice, felt his past rushing up at him.

"You're fucking kidding me," he muttered.

"Sensei!" And then he was swept into a bear hug, wondering how it was possible that Chitose Senri had gotten even taller since he had last seen him last.

"Let go, idiot," he said, pushing the boy. . . no, man. . . off of him.

Chitose was grinning at him stupidly, eyes beaming. He looked the same, Watanabe thought. Maybe he was a little bit taller, a little bit wider, but he was still Chitose. But he wasn't dressed in the flowing tunics and flared jeans of his youth anymore, instead choosing to wear traditional Japanese dress. His geta sandals, however, remained unchanged.

"Sensei, what are you doing here?"

"I'm taking private lessons."

If possible, Chitose's grin widened. "That's funny. As it so happens, I'm teaching private lessons."

Of course.

"Chitose, do you know Watanabe-san?"

Both Chitose and Watanabe turned at the voice, and Watanabe noticed for the first time that they weren't the only people in the room. There were two other men. One, judging from his position behind a neat and tidy desk, was a secretary. The other, leaning against the same desk and watching them with amusement, was. . . well, Watanabe wasn't quite sure.

"Sensei," Chitose said, "this is Akira, the community outreach coordination secretary."

Akira smiled at Watanabe and took his hand. "I spoke to you sister on the phone, Watanabe-san. I hope you enjoy your lessons."

"And this," Chitose continued, gesturing at the tall, blonde man about Chitose's age leaning against his desk, "is Inoue. He's another shogi player."

"And you are?" Inoue asked.

Watanabe opened his mouth to respond, but Chitose was already introducing him to the others.

"This is Watanabe Osamu. He used to be my tennis coach back when I was in school. I used to have the biggest crush on him."

"He didn't," Watanabe said, wishing he had a cigarette right now.

"Sure I did. I jerked off thinking about you all the time."

Akira flushed red while Inoue sputtered, but Watanabe didn't react at all. Reacting to a comment like that, he thought, would only encourage some one like Chitose.

"Come on, sensei, let's go to my office."

Watanabe followed Chitose through a door near the back of the room. Chitose's office was actually a pretty tiny room, filled with stacks of shogi books and magazines. The only other thing in it was a shogi board sitting low on the floor, two cushions on either side.

"This is your office?" Watanabe asked, already making himself comfortable on the cushion, leaning against a stack of magazines and spreading out his legs.

"Hmm?" But Chitose was digging through a pile of papers, looking for something. "Yeah, well, it's temporary. I'm going to China for some games soon, and then it's back to Tokyo for awhile. That's where my permanent home is, I guess."

"Sensei, you smoke up, right?" And Chitose had found what he was looking for, was lighting up a rather large, fat joint. "I always thought you were the type."

"You should stop calling me that," Watanabe said, taking the joint from Chitose's fingers to place between his lips. "Aren't you the teacher now?"

"It's kinkier that way."

They passed the joint between them, several times, as the room filled up with smoke.

"Do you remember," Chitose said, his eyes laughing, "we met over a shogi board?"

Watanabe smiled at that. "Yeah. I never thought I would see you again after that day. . . life's funny like that, huh?"

It as only supposed to be a one night stand, but Chitose kept popping into his life.

"Yeah," Chitose replied. "I think it must be destiny telling us something."

"Hmm. Is there really such a thing?"

He was feeling more lightheaded now, that pleasant haze falling over him. And then Chitose was there, hovering above him.

"Sensei," he said, "can I fuck you right now?"

It would be a lie to say he didn't find Chitose attractive. Besides, they were both adults now.

"Do what you want," he said, and then his arm was knocking over some books as Chitose pushed him to the floor.

A week passed before Watanabe heard from Chitose again, the man having slipped from his mind for awhile. It was the end of the marking period, and he was busy grading the flurry of eleventh hour assignments that he had assigned. He had papers sprawled all across the floor of his apartment, Neko-chan padding lightly across them in a vain attempt to get his attention. The orange tabby had her claws on his jeans now, and he gently shook her off as his cell phone beeped from beside him.

He opened it to read the text message there.

"Your house for our next shogi lesson?"

And who else could that have been but Chitose? He had probably gotten Watanabe's number from the institute. Really, Watanabe wondered, what was with kids today and their text messaging. Was it really so hard to make a phone call?

He remembered their last shogi lesson, and how nothing even remotely connected to shogi had even taken place. But, looking around at the papers in the room, he figured he could use a distraction.

"Fine."

And then, as a reply, a big smiley face and the characters "8pm."

Chitose showed up a few hours later, a bag of groceries in his hand. Watanabe blinked at him in surprise, but Chitose pushed his way in before Watanabe could say anything.

"I thought I'd cook dinner," Chitose said, humming a tune as he started taking food out of the bag. He had even brought a frilly pink apron, which he promptly put on.

Watanabe closed the door. He was still slightly dazed, but he figured if Chitose wanted to feed him that was fine. All he had in his refrigerator was. . .

"Are you serious?" Chitose asked. "Why is a store bought bento the only thing you have in your refrigerator?"

"I have some instant noodles in the cupboard," Watanabe replied.

Chitose gave him an incredulous look, but went back to cutting up an eggplant. Watanabe sat at the counter and watched. He hadn't known that Chitose could cook. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things about Chitose he probably didn't know. He hadn't seen him since Watanabe had been his tennis coach. Some time ago Watanabe had heard rumors from his former teammates that Chitose had gone to Todai for university, which didn't surprise him considering the ridiculously good grades Chitose had always managed to pull out with absolutely no effort. But that was basically it in terms of Chitose-gossip.

"So how'd you end up doing this?" Watanabe asked, watching Chitose stir something in a pot. "Going to Todai, you could probably have done anything you wanted."

"Yeah. And I wanted to play shogi." Chitose shrugged. "I always thought it was just a hobby, figured the chances of me being a professional shogi player were about the same as Kenya being a motocross racer. So when he actually left for America to get into motocross. . . well, I figured, what was I waiting for?"

"Oshitari. . . do you still keep in touch with him?"

"Of course," Chitose replied, his eyes half circles as he smiled and nodded. "For that one year, Kura-kun and Kenya were my closest friends."

"Hmm. How nostalgic." But Watanabe couldn't help but smile at the thought that their friendship had remained intact throughout the years.

"Sensei, try this," Chitose said, roughly shoving a spoonful of. . . something into Watanabe's mouth.

Watanabe sputtered around it for a second before being able to swallow it. It was. . . edible. Much better than something he could have cooked for himself.

"Not awful," he said, and Chitose beamed at him in reply.

Over the next few weeks Chitose managed to ingrain himself into Watanabe's life under the guise of their shogi lessons. Cooking dinner, bringing food over for Neko-chan, sleeping over. Watanabe was getting used to Chitose's presence in his life, in his tiny apartment. So much so that it felt odd when he left. That day Watanabe stepped into his apartment after staying late at school. By this time Chitose had managed to steal a copy of his keys, and was usually cooking by the time he got home. He was expecting to smell food cooking in the oven, to hear Chitose's voice singing "welcome home," but all he found that day was Neko-chan mewing at him from the counter top.

Watanabe picked her up and nestled her in his chest, remembering that today was the day Chitose was supposed to leave for China. He opened the window and pulled out a cigarette, trying not to think about how strange his apartment was now that it was silent like this.

"Osamu, you idiot," he muttered to himself, "you weren't supposed to start falling for the kid."

He stared out the window, wondering what Chitose was doing.

* * *

Chitose sat in the back of a car, on his way from Beijing International Airport to whatever hotel he was supposed to be going to. Some representative from the tournament was in the passenger's seat, looking back to point out the sites as they passed them.

But Chitose's mind was on other things. He wondered what Watanabe was doing.

Maybe celebrating the fact that he was gone, Chitose thought, frowning.

It had been nice to run into Watanabe in Osaka. Chitose hadn't been lying when he told his co-workers that he had had a crush on the older man. His mind flashed back to that National tournament they went to together, and he remembered a warm hand on his head, encouraging words when he was feeling lost and lonely from seeing Tachibana again. And then afterwards. . . well, he had gotten over Tachibana, but then he was graduating, and moving to Tokyo, and that had been that.

But then they met each other again so many years later, and Chitose refused to believe it was just a coincidence. But Watanabe had never seemed to warm up to him, even after he had practically moved in with the man.

Idiot, he thought to himself. To Watanabe, it had really only ever been about that one night stand.

Chitose shook his head, trying to clear it of the despondency that was threatening to overtake it. But then his cell phone was ringing, and when he picked it up Watanabe's name was on the caller id.

"Sensei?" he asked, almost dropping his phone in his rush to get it open.

"Hey," Watanabe replied, as calm as ever. "So I have this thing that I want to run by you. What do you think about me moving to Tokyo?"

Chitose couldn't reply right away, such was his shock. He let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Really?"

"Yeah, well, that old bat Ryuzaki is finally retiring. Seigaku is offering me a position."

"I think you should take it," Chitose replied, a little bit too quickly.

"Hmmm. . . yeah, okay. I guess I will."

"Do you need a place to stay?"

"Idiot," Watanabe muttered, "I'm not moving in with you. I'll find my own place."

Chitose pouted in disappointment, but figured it was okay. Watanabe was coming to Tokyo.

"Oi, I have to go. Give me a call when you get back to Japan."

Chitose was about to say goodbye, but he heard a click, and realized that Watanabe had already hung up on him. His tour guide was looking at him with a bemused expression.

"Good news from home, Chitose-san?"

Chitose smiled. "Yeah. Really good news."

Screw what Watanabe said. . . as soon as he got back to Tokyo, Chitose was going to look for a bigger apartment.


End file.
